


Mission Locked

by gatekat, Verilidaine



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Partner Torture, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Spark Bond, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 47,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5879998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verilidaine/pseuds/Verilidaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not long after they risk bonding Prowl has to send Jazz deep undercover for a long mission. Of the many things they expected might happen during the mission, Jazz being ordered to interrogate Prowl was not on the list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Decisions

Jazz stared at the low clearance above him, on his back in a ceiling vent with his hands crossed behind his helm as he listened to the conversation taking place in the room below.

"...think about letting go?"

"I can't, I can't do that."

"The only way to begin the grieving process--"

"I said I can't do that!"

A long silence.

"Do you remember what you told me last time?"

"That doesn't matter. It wasn't confirmed."

"I'd like you to repeat what you told me last time."

A heavy sigh. "Intelligence suggests he was part of the captured group."

"And...?"

"And executed." A shuddering intake, then a frustrated hiss. "But no frame was ever recovered, they don't know!"

"I understand you aren't ready to let go. I think moving towards that step should be the next stage here."

"I told you already, I'm not giving up on him! He wouldn't give up on me!"

"I can't force you. But I do want to help you. And right now, we're stuck until you can accept that he was almost certainly executed as a POW. We'll take all the time you need, but given what we know, I no longer think it is in your best interests to support unfounded hope."

"But he's alive." The vocalizer cracked. "He has to be alive, I can't live without him."

Jazz sighed and pushed himself up on one elbow. It was going about as badly as he'd expected, and not at all as well as he'd hoped. He knew the odds of survival of Crisscross's lover were an incredibly long shot, and he gave it better odds than his own mate did. At the same time he had beaten the odds and come home after being proclaimed DIA twice and missing, presumed deactivated three other times that he was aware of.

Jazz was a master of beating the odds against his survival and so was Prowl. Yeah, Prowl made his accomplishments look puny. Granted, Prowl had only beat expectations once, but what a once it had been. Only two Enforcers had been pulled out of the ruble of Praxus still functioning and only one lasted a metacycle. The Decepticons had been after anything with a spark pulse, but they actively hunted anyone of authority. That he was still functioning was just about a miracle.

Not quite, because Prowl had quoted him the statistics and Jazz knew that miracles didn't really exist. But it was close.

As a friend, Jazz found Crisscross's hope admirable. As a supervisor ... it was unhealthy, and it was making the mech unproductive. The uncertainty was wearing him down but the refusal to begin grieving was halting any real progress. 

He couldn't help Crisscross to see things differently, but he knew he didn't want that uncertainty. He was sure Prowl didn't want it either. The only trouble was that making sure the other knew for certain was such a huge step. Were either of them ready for it?

He moved silently out of the vents, leaving Crisscross to figure out what little he could and privately setting him aside as unfit for strenuous duty. He and Prowl had talked about it, a long time ago, back when Praxus was a shining city and the war a distant murmur. They hadn't been ready then, but they'd been open to it, when the right time came along. 

Was now right? Tactically, no, it wasn't. Prowl would surely say that. If Jazz was deactivated or even critically damaged it could distract Prowl, or even worse it could cause him to focus on Jazz and not what he should be doing. Jazz knew he was more than slightly inclined to scrap a mission if it meant saving Prowl. At the same time, _knowing_ the other was safe would allow them to focus on their duties more completely outside of those moments.

Jazz bit his lip as he slipped into the hallway and hooked his thumbs into his hip joints as he walked. The chances of him vanishing without a trace weren't insignificant. Which would be worse, Prowl fading into the same lingering uncertainty that Crisscross was being swallowed by, or _knowing_ that Jazz was gone? 

Who was Jazz to decide? He loved his mate, he _trusted_ his mate enough to not make that choice for him. Prowl deserved to have as much a voice in this as Jazz did. It was Prowl's spark on the line as much as Jazz's after all.

It didn't take long to get to their quarters, as cramped as they all were in the subterranean barracks. "Prowler?" he asked as he walked in, both announcing his presence and checking if his mate was there. 

"Here," Prowl replied from the berth to announce his location to the mate who sometimes came home less than fully locked into reality. "Done for the orn?" he asked as he set a datapad aside and sat up more fully.

Jazz shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah. Been knockin' about for a while." 

Prowl nodded and patted the berth next to him, inviting his mate to join him and to whatever Jazz needed to settle himself.

Jazz flopped down with a heavy x-vent and situated himself with his helm in Prowl's lap. "Been thinkin'."

"Oh?" Prowl asked.

"Yeah. Listened in a bit on Crisscross in therapy, he's havin' trouble dealin' with Vayne bein' gone." 

"To be expected. Few mecha let go easily without a frame," Prowl allowed, but his harmonics were cautious. "Are you considering providing one?"

"I wasn't, but that's not a bad idea," Jazz mused. "He'll be worthless until there's some kind of closure, and I don't think he'll come ta it on his own. Nah, I've been thinkin' about us. What if the same thing happened?" 

Prowl stilled completely, then allowed a small x-vent to escape as his optics unfocused. "I would not give up looking. Depending on my rank it could well end the war sooner than anticipated."

"Heh. Maybe best ta leave things the way they are, then," Jazz said with a small smile as he reached up to run his fingers along his mate's jaw. Prowl leaned into the touch willingly, glad to be able to soak it in.

"If it ends in our favor," Prowl murmured. "Ending does not assume an Autobot victory."

"Why ya gotta be so technical," Jazz murmured in reply, wishing badly that they could just forget everything and get lost in each other, not a care in the world except their schedules not meeting up often enough, or Prowl being cranky over a speeder getting away from someone in his department. Those had been good times. Time when they both had more flexibility and fewer duties, and much better accommodations.

"Because I am," Prowl smiled faintly. "Now what was it you came in to discuss?"

"Why would you think I just came in ta discuss something?" Jazz asked with a bit of a pout.

"Because I know you very well, my love, and you are being abnormally contemplative," Prowl said, slipping his hand around Jazz's to still the exploring fingers, and lowering their hands to Jazz's chest.

Jazz x-vented. "I think we might wanna think about bonding," he said. Even knowing Prowl as well as he did, Jazz wasn't sure of the response he would get, other than it being well thought out.

"Only to avoid not knowing?" Prowl asked carefully.

"Not only," Jazz said. "But it's a perk. There's a good chance of one of us dyin' any orn, an' if we don't, it'll just mean we let the war take that from us. And..." He hesitated briefly, and got an encouraging squeeze from Prowl. "And it'd make lettin' go really easy if somethin' happened. Prolly better for the 'Bots that way, too." 

Prowl hummed thoughtfully and dimmed his optics further. "May I have time to process this?"

"Of course," Jazz flushed reassurance through his field. "I'm not going anywhere for at least a few orns."

"Then I will give you an answer before your next mission," Prowl promised.

"Really?" Jazz nuzzled against his mate's abdomen. "Take more time if ya need it. And if ya think it's a bad idea, I just wanna hear why, and I won't ask again. Okay?"

"Yes," Prowl promised as he stroked Jazz's helm. "I do desire to bond with you. I am less sure if now is a good time."

"No hasty decisions," Jazz said, and kissed Prowl's middle, then lower. He rolled onto his side and felt his mate's hand settle on his helm as his mouth pressed to a warm cover. He smiled and nuzzled again, fingers linked with Prowl's as arousal bloomed between them. 

* * *

Jazz came back to their shared quarters with buzzing in his processors and simmering in his tanks. He stepped lightly, nervous, excited, eager, anxious. "Prowler?" he called in his standard greeting. 

"Here," Prowl answered from the berth and set his datapad down to welcome his lover.

Jazz joined him, sliding onto the berth and taking a slow, sweet kiss that was very willingly returned. "I'm too nervous," he said when he pulled away. "Just tell me what you think and get it over with."

"I think it is to our advantage to bond," Prowl stroked Jazz's back.

"Really?" Jazz delighted answer was accompanied by another pouncing kiss that pushed Prowl back into the berth. Jazz didn't stay there long before pushing himself up. "What if something happens to one of us?" 

"As you suggested, it will be easier to let go knowing there is no hope of return," Prowl pointed out gently. "The survivor will know to keep the Autobots out of whatever final mission they choose."

"A break could happen in a critical moment," Jazz said. "I trust _you_ ta keep control, I'm not so sure about me." 

"I am," Prowl caressed a sensor horn. "If it is important, you will do what is necessary."

Jazz tilted his helm into the hand and hummed. "So ya think this is actually a good idea, instead'a just me thinkin' we should do it?" 

"The advantages far outweigh the disadvantages, love." Prowl smiled slightly. "While the ultimate reasons are completely selfish, the tactical value of it is very high. You will be able to send me valuable tactical data in real time, and I can update you on important changes without calling you in. It will reduce your probability of being captured since you will no longer be required to break cover to send information and we will know immediately if you are captured, thus reducing the probability of your deactivation or breaking."

"I'm so glad I asked ya," Jazz said. "Your reasons are way better than my reasons." 

A small flush of pride infused Prowl's field. "What did you think of?"

Jazz grinned. "That I really, really want ta, and it's stupid ta let a war stop us from doin' this."

"While trusting Whiplash to realize that you will do what you want and there is nothing he can do to stop you," Prowl chuckled and leaned forward for a kiss. "Do you want a ceremony?"

"Nah," Jazz said with a shrug. "Who'd come, anyway?"

"There are many mecha who like you enough and Whiplash," Prowl whispered with another kiss that sent a trail of liquid heat through Jazz's frame. "Bluestreak would certainly attend for me, as would many officers. We are both officers. There would be some pressure not to appear to snub us. Knowing our Prime, he would love to officiate it. He is always going on about not losing who and what we are to this war. But it should be about _us_ and what would make us happy."

"Do you want a small ceremony?" Jazz asked. "I wouldn't mind it. Just not how I was picturing it." 

"No, what matters to me is in our sparks," Prowl purred softly with another strut-melting kiss.

"Mmm, me too," Jazz purred in answer. "So I'll ask for leave, how long do you want to request for?"

"As I understand it, ten orns is the medically advisable minimum," Prowl hummed. "So fifteen?"

"I like fifteen," Jazz said with a grin. "After all, with two overachievers like us we should be able to knock out a bond in five and spend the last ten fragging." 

Prowl laughed. "As if newly bonded mecha do anything else."

Jazz chased down a happy, humming kiss. "One decaorn from today, can you get that?" 

"Either normally or by Ratchet," Prowl agreed. "I expect it will be by Ratchet."

"Mm." Jazz nipped at Prowl's lip. "Think Sonar won't give it to ya?" 

"Not if he works out why I want so much time off with such short notice. He is cruel on his good orns," Prowl explained before giving the kiss.

"So tell him it's personal time, I'm havin' a rough bit an' ya need it ta spend with me. Bet I could even get 'Lash ta order it," Jazz said. "He _does_ outrank him." 

"I intend to simply request the time and if it is refused it will either be Ratchet or Whiplash to force him. It would be nice to know if I could count on Whiplash for this, or if I can count on him to be trouble," Prowl admitted.

"I'll ask," Jazz said. "He's not gonna be thrilled, but I think y' right, he knows he can't stop me so he might as well let me do it the right way." 

"Don't forget to mention those advantages the bond would give," Prowl purred deeply. "It will give him good ammo against Sonar."

* * *

"Heeey 'Lash," Jazz drawled as he sauntered into his CO's private office. "Got a klik?"

"Apparently I do," Whiplash said, setting down his work and looking up at Jazz. "What's up?" 

"I need half a decaorn off soon. Like the decaorn after next," Jazz gave his best "I've been a good agent" look.

That made Whiplash visibly pause to think about the who and the when and the potential why. "Your workload isn't the easiest to redistribute, you know," he said. 

"And you know I'm due a whole lot more than I'm asking for. Sixteen orns isn't that difficult to clear," Jazz countered. He waited a beat. "I'm askin' nice here."

Whiplash watched him for a moment, then huffed. "And you know that I know that I'll regret it if you're not asking nicely. Okay, I'll bite. Why?"

"Me an' Prowler are going ta bond," Jazz allowed the truth to sit there, out in the open and between them.

Whiplash x-vented deeply. "I thought we talked about this, after Praxus." 

"Things are different now. I didn't almost lose Prowl and he's stable now." Jazz shook his helm. "Back then I didn't know how valuable it could be in the war effort. Might not be why we want ta, but it's still a good argument for you approvin' it."

"Valuable? Bonds are a liability, nothing else," Whiplash huffed.

"Yes, valuable. I can pass on most intel in real time without breaking any cover or risking getting caught. Prowl can give me updates I might need through the bond, so again, I don't need to risk breaking cover. And there's the little point that Prowl would know immediately if I've been compromised, so there's no wondering about my status," Jazz rattled off the most valuable parts. "After what he's survived already, he's not goin' ta break the instant I gray. He'll finish the battle."

"He'll finish the battle, I'll give you that," Whiplash said. "Not the war. If one of you goes gray, the other will follow." 

"That's true whether or not we're bonded," Jazz said carefully. "We're both past the point where one will outlast the other for long."

"Not physically," Whiplash said. "Not yet. Only if you do this." 

"Which we are going to do." Jazz told him firmly. "I'd rather it be with your approval, but ya aren't goin' ta stop it."

Whiplash stared at him, long and hard. "This is because of Crisscross, isn't it," he said. 

"He got it started. Prowl's tactical analysis said there wasn't a down side but plenty of up sides," Jazz admitted. "Though speakin' of Crisscross, Prowl suggested giving him a body if you're that sure Vayne is gone."

"That's not a bad idea," Whiplash hummed. "Not going to get him back until he accepts it. Alright, fine, have your time off. I guess it's better to to work at full strength and then lose it all rather than have you fade away and make mistakes." 

"Thanks boss," Jazz smiled and rocked on his pedes eagerly. "Ya won't regret it. I'll be even better bonded, and so will Prowl."

Whiplash snorted. "If not you're fired."

"No I'm not," Jazz grinned, all but dancing over to give Whiplash a kiss on the cheek before bolting out and leaving his boss to sort out the details of his leave.

* * *

Sonar descended upon Prowl in the rec room while he was refueling between shifts, all bluster and show, like most of the mech's attempts at real strategy. Prowl sipped his energon calmly while the confrontation made its way over.

"What is this?" Sonar demanded, waving a datapad at him. 

"My request for leave," Prowl answered calmly.

"Why?" Sonar demanded, throwing it down onto the table. 

Prowl gave him a slightly exasperated look usually reserved for miscreants who just couldn't learn. "Since I have not taken any personal leave since I joined it is my right to ask for it," he began, making the point more for those listening in than his commanding officer. "The length is based on the CMO's recommendation."

"And just what do you need a CMO's recommendation for?" Sonar asked, optics narrowing with suspicion. 

"To spark bond and return to duty without impairment," Prowl answered without a hint of shame or unease. All around the room shock flared and rippled and at least three mecha made the distressed sounds of a pending logic center crash.

"You will do no such thing," Sonar said immediately. "I do not grant this request--which, may I remind you, is a _request._ Making yourself unfit for service will never be a granted request." 

"Then the leave will come in the form of a medical order." Prowl pointed out. "While rare, bonding is not against any regulation. Only the Prime has authorization to deny the right to bond and only before it happens."

"Then I'll be going to the Prime," Sonar said. "And don't you think I won't. Tying yourself to that insane death-seeker will just guarantee we lose you as a resource whenever he finally goes too far, and he _will_ go too far someday." 

"That is your choice," Prowl said mildly. "When and to whom I bond is mine."

"Get Ratchet to grant your leave, then," Sonar said, looking around the room. "Though very soon you will have no reason for it." 

Prowl inclined his helm in acceptance of the statement and pinged his lover with an encryption they had created together and never shared. ::Jazz, I would suggest we move the time table up as much as you can manage. Sonar has made a threat to your continued presence.::

A chuckle answered him. ::Right, like he could do anything. Sure, though. 'Lash is on board, just lemme submit the new dates.:: 

::We do plan the majority of your missions. Do not discount how dangerous a tactician can be,:: Prowl warned him. ::I will contact Ratchet.::

::I should thank your glitch of a boss for gettin' me that spark 'a yours sooner,:: Jazz purred. ::See ya after shift.::

* * *

Prowl did his best not to show his nerves on the way to his quarters. Ratchet was predictably outraged that Sonar would refuse the leave and surprisingly congratulatory to Prowl for finally finding something worth fighting for the future for. The past few joors continued to swirl in his processors, his tac-net obsessing over what Sonar was planning. It had him completely frazzled by the time he reached the door and palmed it open.

Jazz was already stretched out on their berth, looking all the world like he'd meant it to be a seductive pose, but he was deep in recharge. It generated a rumble of desire in Prowl and a jolt of charge as he stepped closer.

"Jazz," Prowl cooed. He wanted to touch, to stretch alongside his lover, but he knew better than to startle him. 

Jazz's field flickered out to touch its mate's, warming. He shifted a little, then stretched. "Mmh. Prowla'." Just a murmur, but part of the normal boot process to let Prowl know that Jazz was aware of himself, and calm. It was more than enough for Prowl to join his love on the berth and snuggle close.

"Ready to enjoy our bonding?" Prowl murmured with a soft kiss.

"Hmm?" Jazz's optics slowly flickered on. "What? Oh." He looked around, then gave a rueful laugh. "I slipped off." 

"All the more energy you'll have for me," Prowl smiled and stroked seductively down Jazz's chest.

"Mmm. Dunno about that. Told 'Lash I needed to move the leave up and he crammed about five orns' worth into one shift." Jazz hooked his leg around Prowl's. "But I guess with you just right there..." He purred and pushed himself up into a kiss. 

"I was faced with much the same," Prowl admitted. "We have our leave signed off and the next half decaorn to ourselves under medical orders."

Jazz purred against his mate and stroked a finger down his chest, his own parting open. "We're finally doing this." 

"Yes," Prowl whispered into another kiss and parted his armor to spill pale blue light across Jazz's frame, mingling with the rich purple shining up from below.

* * *

Shortly before coming on duty again from the bonding leave Prowl ensured all the forms and reports required to have his bond known to those who needed to known and the law were in and recorded. The last thing he wanted was for his CO to find a way to use it against him because it wasn't filed perfectly.

He was not expecting a duty ping as he headed for the tactical center, much less the order it contained: report to the Prime immediately.

Without hesitation he shifted course for the coordinates embedded in the ping, and realized he was heading for the Prime's private quarters.

About halfway there, Jazz appeared alongside him and Prowl felt the wonderful, amazing, still-delighting stroke against his spark.

"You too, hmm?" Jazz hummed. 

"Yes. I anticipate it is about our new status," Prowl sent a pulse of shivering delight at that status across the bond.

"Can't imagine why the Prime cares," Jazz said, tickling back. 

"We will soon find out," Prowl suppressed a shiver of desire and pinged a request for access.

"Jazz, Prowl," Optimus's familiar rumble greeted them from beyond the entryway. "Come in, make yourselves comfortable."

Jazz and Prowl made their way into the Prime's living room and found him reclining on a lounge, with a pitcher of fizzing energon set out beside two cubes. Prowl sat in a chair designed for wings, though he remained fairly stiff as he waited for the Prime to make his intentions known. Jazz, in opposite fashion, flopped down and poured himself a full cube of the low grade. Tasty, though hardly any real fuel to be found in it. "What's up, Prime?"

Optimus looked between the two. "I received the notice of your bonding today, congratulations." 

"Thank you," Prowl dipped his doorwings.

"Best thing I've ever done," Jazz grinned happily and felt Prowl lean towards him and the joy the words brought to his mate.

"I _also_ received an official conduct complaint against you, Prowl," Optimus said. "For acting in defiance of your direct superior's wishes." 

"He instructed me to acquire bonding leave from Ratchet, so I did. I would be surprised if he hadn't complained," Prowl answered.

"Can I ask why you decided, now, to go through with this?" Optimus asked them. 

"One of Jazz's coworkers has a mate who was probably captured and executed, but no frame or proof of deactivation has been found," Prowl began the sequence for himself. "I have long known I wish to bond with Jazz. However I have accepted the common wisdom that it is a bad idea in war. When Jazz told me of what he had seen and asked if I wished to bond, I gave my tac-net time to process every variable and long term projection. The benefits to the war effort far outweigh the risks in our particular case. That made going with our wish to bond an acceptable choice for me."

"I just plain wanted ta bond with the love of my life," Jazz said with a grin.

Optimus's optics warmed with a smile. "I'm happy for you both, I truly am. If you believe it is in our best interests, I will do my best to block the backlash coming from Sonar. He's very frustrated about this." 

"Thank you. Anything that prevents him from completely subjugating and terrorizing all mecha around him frustrates him," Prowl spoke a truth few dared to. "I have long been a primary target."

Optimus x-vented. "He won plenty of battles for us, and understands the enemy extraordinarily well. I will look into the rest of it. He raises some genuine concerns, particularly considering how dangerous your specialty is, Jazz."

Jazz raised his cube with a smirk.

"It is simple to understand those who think as you do," Prowl said calmly.

"However, considering Whiplash's agreement and comments, as well as your assessment, I believe his concerns are largely unfounded, given what we stand to gain," Optimus finished.

"All things worth fighting for must be worth risking for," Prowl said softly. "My tac-net can give numbers, odds and options, but it takes a spark to determine how much risk is worth the potential reward." He paused and made a quick swap of a datachip in his forearm and offered it to Optimus. "These are my tac-net's full analysis, and my parameters for ranking the results. You may find it useful when speaking to Sonar about this. I do not take extensive risks."

"You expect he will give me trouble?" Optimus lifted an optic ridge even as he accepted the chip for later.

"No, he is as keenly aware of rank and power as I am and I do not believe him a threat to the war effort or you. What it will do is assist you in speaking our dialect more fluently. The less he has to translate the more likely you will get your point across," Prowl attempted to explain. "Have you ever had to listen to scientists discuss technical aspects of their work?" He smiled slightly at the groan Optimus managed to suppress. "Tactical mecha have a dialect just as specialized as science models."

"Thank you," Optimus said with a smile. "I will do what I can."

"Thanks, Prime," Jazz said. "Means a lot."

"I'm glad to see mecha continuing to live," Optimus said. "That, more than anything, is what keeps me fighting." 

* * *

"How's it goin', boss mech?" Jazz asked as he sauntered into the CTO's office. 

"Busy," Prowl replied without looking up. "How long before you try for a promotion yourself?"

Jazz snorted. "Ya kiddin'? And trade in the fun 'a gettin' tossed all over the planet for bein' a desk-sittin' grouch like Whiplash? No thanks. _You_ wouldn't'a even tried for it if Sonar hadn't turned traitor on us, and I _know_ that ain't gonna happen with 'Lash." 

"Quite true. Even if he did, he's far too skilled to be caught before it's far too late," Prowl extended a hand to draw Jazz into his lap for a soft kiss that instantly set off every alarm bell in Jazz's finely tuned survival protocols. "How are you feeling?"

Jazz frowned at him. "Why?" he asked, relaxing the work hold that he kept on their bond so he could get a better sense of Prowl's intentions. His mate was uneasy, upset really, and it was directly related to Jazz somehow.

Prowl sighed. "There's an upcoming mission for Ops."

"Ah. Hence the promotion talk," Jazz said, slumping a little. He looked at Prowl, then sighed. "So what is it, and why do I get the feelin' it's mine?" 

"Because you have the best probability of coming back functional," Prowl held him a bit more tightly. "You always get the hardest missions. This one is a _long_ undercover mission."

"Deep cover," Jazz hummed. "As what?"

"Interrogator," Prowl said.

Jazz flashed a grin. "My favorite." 

"I'd rather not remember that," Prowl shivered with a slithering coil of fear towards the boogiemech of his function. "You are to find out what happened with the VIM list, find out where the Decepticon's detention center is and who's in it."

"Sure thing," Jazz said. "Got the report for me, or is it too soon?"

"Too soon," Prowl allowed himself to relax. "I expect Whiplash will brief you in the next decaorn or two." He rested his forehelm against Jazz's. "Expect updates periodically by bond while you are under."

"Mm." Jazz tilted his head. "Lemme contact you for those. Gimmie a schedule ta keep. 'S disorienting to break like that, dunno what a bond will do ta it. Don't really want the trial run ta be somethin' this deep, but it'll hafta do." 

"Agreed, though I would rather never test it," Prowl sighed. "However, this mission does mean that until then you are on a lighter work duty than most. I'll take what time off that I can. We may not see each other for decades."

"Or longer," Jazz said grimly, and pressed in for another soft kiss. "If we schedule in breaks it'll be easier ta contact. Not so different from meetin' with a handler." 

"One difference," Prowl murmured as he surrendered to his bonded's desires. "Only Soundwave can use these meetings against you. It will be so much safer for you. How often and long a window should it be?"

"Breakin' character's hard," Jazz sighed. "Switching profiles takes a bit. Need ta manipulate schedules ... One orn, twice per vorn sound good?"

They felt how much Prowl want to scream **_no_** and the fight it took to manage to nod. "I can do that. What is procedure if I cannot make it? Rare as it is, there have been battles where I have not looked up from the tactical board for a decaorn except to catch enough recharge to function."

"Let's figure that out later, hmm?" Jazz hummed. "Contingency plans sound boring. _You_ , though..." He nipped at Prowl's lip. 

"Wants his bonded's frame and spark every way possible before his next shift," Prowl rumbled, the desire honest even if it was fueled by the coming loss. He gave Jazz a push. "Our quarters. Now."

"Mhmm," Jazz hummed into a deeper kiss before sliding backwards off Prowl's lap and making his way slowly to the door, hips swaying as he walked. 


	2. Absence Makes...

Prowl logged off his terminal and shut the desk down. He stared at the empty screen for a few moments before standing and setting the security system that would prevent anyone but the Prime from being able to access the space until he returned from the full three orns off duty. An orn on either side to get himself settled, and the middle orn being reserved for Jazz.

As difficult at times as it was for Prowl to accept that the army and war would go along smoothly without him for so long he had to. It hurt in a way he didn't care to contemplate; experience proved he was not as invaluable as he liked to believe. Things would be fine without him for a while. All that was just a cover for his real difficulty and he refused to think about it. He now had to spend more than a full orn with nothing but his own will to keep him still and a bond that lead to nothing to keep him company.

It was, in Prowl's opinion, a cruelty. He still had recharge terrors on occasion from a brief stay inside a maximum detention facility. His consciousness trapped in an energon matrix, never capable of shutting down, with no frame to command and no way to gather information. He knew it wasn't reasonable to react the way he did, but he couldn't help it. Just the thought of being in one of those boxes was enough to make him quiver in distress.

A deep draw of atmosphere and Prowl settled his armor and frame language. It simply would not due for anyone but Jazz to see his baseless weakness.

"How's it goin', Prowl?" The voice startled him and it made Prowl doubly glad that he'd smoothed his armor down when he turned to see one of the Autobot's relatively few fliers, a candy apple red mech designated Omena. 

"Slowly," Prowl answered in an effort to both respond and not give up anything not required of him.

"Odd answer," Omena said with a grin. His wings were cocked forward, held up in interest. "Feel like a few laps around the track? There aren't any fliers to race, but I love keeping time with the better drivers." 

"I have other plans," Prowl said evenly while he became carefully wary. Of the 'better drivers' on base, Prowl readily admitted he was one of the best. That didn't change how unnatural it was for anyone to want to be around him.

"Maybe after?" the flier pressed hopefully. "It's gotta be getting pretty lonely for you around here. My engines would definitely need a tune-up by now." 

The low growl of Prowl's engine was backed up in the sharp jerk of his doorwings going up in a blatant threat to maul the offender that drew sharp attention from everyone in sight. Even those who didn't understand got the gist of the warning. "No. I have no interest in 'a tune-up' or anything else you care to call it."

"Whoa, hey--" Omena's hands went up and his wings went down. "No need to growl about it. Just a friendly offer." 

"One that does not need to be made again," Prowl growled as he forced his frame to settle even as he stalked forward, everything about him warning Omena to go another direction.

The flier shrank back and the wings lowered as far as they could go and he sidestepped. "Sure, yeah, I get it. Never meant to offend." 

Prowl didn't even hear it as he stalked to his quarters, forgoing his planned stop in the mess hall. He had plenty in his system for now and he needed to calm down before he did something more regrettable than losing his temper. It stung, that others could see how badly he wanted a warm berth. In a different time and place he would have accepted the attention. That time and those places were all gone though, and that was before he got to the point that he was bonded. It was a moment where he questioned the wisdom of keeping his bond with Jazz a secret.

They'd talked it over, of course, and agreed on it together. Their superiors knew, no one else needed to. Sonar's objections and attempts to keep them apart, while unlawful, weren't entirely unfounded. A bond was a weakness that could be exploited. It was also a strength that they had exploited several times to great effect and would continue to do so. Jazz was as strong-willed as mecha came and nearly as skilled. He could take, bribe, bluff or crawl his way out of anything. That he could now lean on Prowl's strengths in real time made him that much better at his job. What he could tell Prowl without breaking comm silence improved Prowl's results.

All of that and the importance of Jazz's mission still didn't make the six and a half vorns without him any less lonely.

When he reached his quarters, he headed immediately for his berth and sank down onto it, doorwings drooping in exhaustion. It wasn't the work, it was just _missing_ his mate that was wearing him out. He hoped Jazz was doing better. It would be a long and very difficult meeting if they were both this hungry for the other.

Slowly, too slowly, Prowl shifted around to sit upright and settled into a light meditation to clear his thoughts. He had a full orn before Jazz opened up to him. Until then all he knew was that his bonded was physically all right.

He stayed in his quarters for the rest of the following orn, except for one trip out to the mess hall in the middle of the busiest shift, to ensure it would be as empty as possible. He brought back enough energon to last until he needed to be back on duty and locked himself up to wait.

~Prowler?~ The first touch from his mate was light, tentative, and he reached for it eagerly, desperately relieved to feel that energy touch his own. 

~Jazz. How are you?~ Prowl reached out more coherently.

~I'm ... me,~ Jazz said slowly. ~Just a few kliks with the bond open, okay?~ The hold with his mate strengthened, everything opened up. 

_Yes,_ Prowl agreed wordlessly, more than happy to revel in the fully open bond and simply drift together, mingling and reminding them both of who and what they were.

It lasted for more than a few kliks, but Prowl didn't mind. After nearly a groon, he felt a sigh and a shudder from his mate. ~Thanks, love.~

~Anytime and anything, my bonded,~ Prowl responded with the giddy warmth he still felt at that truth. ~Anything worthy of reporting?~

~Nothing I want to take any of our time with,~ Jazz said. ~How are you?~

~I miss you,~ Prowl answered the only way he could. There was no hiding that truth here. ~Otherwise things are acceptable. This is so much more difficult than I believed.~

~Harder than the other times I've gone deep,~ Jazz agreed. ~You'd think it would be the opposite.~

~One would. Despite that I now know you are alive and not in critical danger at all times, which is a great relief, the knowing you are so close and being unable to even send my affection across the bond is so much worse,~ Prowl agreed as his spark pressed into the contact. ~Love you. Miss you. As difficult as this is, I would not give our bond up for what it once was like.~

~Me neither,~ Jazz sighed with a shivering brush against his mate's spark. ~Maybe it'll just keep getting easier. Helps to have these to look forward to, a lot.~

~It does,~ Prowl agreed. ~How long do we have this time?~

~Full orn,~ Jazz said. ~Minus the groon and a some kliks. They think I'm in a room right now, set up a pre-recording. No one ever comes in while I'm working. I love you, Prowl.~

~I love you dearly, my Jazz,~ Prowl let himself relax just a bit more at the promise of so much time with his love. It felt so good and simply feeling Jazz there, alive and warm and aware of him was draining away stress and pain he rarely realized was creeping into him with every orn they were apart.

* * *

Optimus Prime was relaxing in the entry room of his quarters late in the evening when a ping at his door actually startled him to his pedes before he fully realized he was moving. No one ever came by his personal quarters this late, much less the mech on the other side of the door. Prowl was looking his normal poised self, but when the door opened the mech's teek was close to an emotional breakdown.

"Prowl," he murmured, and quickly stepped back, beckoning the Praxian in. "What's wrong, what's happened?"

Prowl willingly slipped inside and waited for the door to close. "I miss Jazz so much," he managed to get out despite the shaking of his doorwings.

"Oh, Prowl," Optimus murmured, and put a careful hand on his back, using light pressure to guide him forward. "Come sit down. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Prowl followed the direction without resistance, then nodded as his field became ever more unsteady. "He's been gone longer than this before with no contact. Why is it so much more difficult now?"

"You have a fairly new bond," Optimus murmured, guiding Prowl deeper into his suite, towards one of the soft lounges that could accommodate his doorwings. "That alone will cause you to crave closeness. For the first time in your life, you've known what it is to be connected to him every moment, only to have it taken away again." The convoy class was gone for a moment, then returned with a cube that was pressed into Prowl's hands. "Not very strong, I'm afraid, but if you're full you might get a buzz from it." 

"Thank you, Optimus," Prowl cradled the cube, using it as a physical anchor. "Will it ever become easier?"

"I can't answer that," Optimus said, sitting down across from Prowl and leaning forward, elbows on his knees and hunkered down to get closer to the Praxian's height. "I don't know what the future holds, and I don't know a bonded pair that has ever been tested like this before. Answers will come with time, not from me. But I suspect, yes, eventually you may become accustomed to it. I hope you don't need to, though." 

"As do I," Prowl murmured as he leaned into his leader's presence. "I suppose it counts among the things that should always be difficult. I was told as a young Enforcer that the moment deactivating a civilian does not tear at your coding, no matter how justified, it is time to resign."

"Wise commanders," Optimus said. His field was warm and steady. "Is there anything I can do? Do you think you will be able to continue your function until Jazz returns?"

"I will manage, even if I do not know how yet," Prowl promised, then looked up and struggled with the words he'd come here to speak. "May I stay, recharge with a strong field nearby?"

"Yes, absolutely," Optimus said. "Whatever you need." 

"Thank you. There are very few I can let my guard down around," Prowl admitted a truth that the war and rank had only made worse over the centuries.

Optimus smiled, flush with pleasure that this mecha trusted him so much. He hesitated for a moment. "Prowl, should we have a discussion about the benefits of pulling him early?"

"No. Not yet," Prowl said firmly. "I miss him terribly, but I am still stable as is he."

"You will let me know if that ceases to be the case," Optimus said firmly, knowing that he could trust this mech to do so. 

"Before it becomes a problem," Prowl promised more than was demanded. "I will be the not cause of an emergency mission termination. The safest exit is a well-planned one."

"Very well, then," Optimus said, and smiled warmly at his officer. "I was just reviewing reports, do you mind waiting up with me while I finish?"

"Not at all," Prowl relaxed into the chair and pulled out a datapad from subspace. "There is always work for me to do."

"Something we have in common," Optimus chuckled before they settled into companionable silence.

Almost a joor later when Optimus finished his last report, he tapped the datapad and cycled his optics to refocus them. He looked up at Prowl, who was hyper-focused in his work, barely aware of what was around him. "Prowl," he murmured, extending his field. "Are you ready for recharge?" 

"Of course," Prowl responded by rote, not consciously aware of what he said or that he was shutting down the datapad for several long nanokliks. By the time he stood, however, he was fully checked into reality once more.

Optimus stood and stretched, then took Prowl by the hand and led him to the berth. "Make yourself comfortable," he rumbled. "I will join you in a klik." 

Prowl dipped his doorwings in a thanks his field conveyed clearly and climbed onto the berth that was softer and larger than anything he had recharged on before and sank to his side with a relieved x-vent of pleasure. With one doorwing mostly off the padding to scan the lower half of the room and the other lifted to scan the rest, Prowl settled into his preferred recharge position.

Optimus climbed on after him and lay in front of him, one arm going around his waist and the other curling near the top of his helm. "Is this okay?" he asked, even though Prowl's field all but melted to saturate his with the warmth Optimus created, the sense of safety and a blanket of comfort against the ache of an absent mate.

"More than okay," Prowl murmured as he snuggled in a little closer. His frame quivered slightly at the intense release of tension and nearly drew a sob of relief from Prowl's intakes.

"We can do this whenever you'd like," Optimus murmured, rubbing one of the chevron horns with his thumb. 

Prowl tilted into the touch and the gentle, comforting pleasure it brought. "Thank you," he sighed as the need for recharge began to shut down his higher processor functions and his frame, allowing him to drift into peaceful recharge.

Prime smiled and relaxed once he felt Prowl fully shut down, spark glad to be able to help one of his fellow Cybertronians. 

* * *

Jazz soaked in the warmth and love of his bonded, glad he could give some news this time. Not only was Flint being noticed for his skills in interrogation, but he'd been able to pass on information on where a half dozen prisoners were going to be in the next few orns. Prowl was able to give him so much more strength now too, now that Prime was willing to help him recharge and find peace while Jazz was away. Even if it hadn't been platonic, Jazz couldn't mind. The calmness and steadiness in Prowl in the vorns since he began to recharge in Prime's berth and the peace it brought Prowl was well worth it.

An unwelcome timer went off in his processors, alerting him to the nearing end of the orn they were able to spend together. ~'S almost that time, love,~ he murmured. 

~Thank you for the intel and good news,~ Prowl's tone was honest despite the reluctance to end their meeting. ~You are doing very well. I hope this means you will learn about the DDC soon and come home.~

~Workin' on it, love,~ Jazz said, and pressed closer. ~I want to be home with you.~

~I want you home. We _will_ have many orns to ourselves when you are out of quarantine,~ Prowl promised with all the authority of the one who made the schedules. ~I will be well done with any plans by the time I can see you.~

~I can't wait,~ Jazz said with a shiver. ~One orn closer. I love you, Prowl.~

~I love you, Jazz,~ Prowl whispered as they reluctantly began to rebuild the barrier between them.

They held on for as long as they could but they finally had to part and the last of the bond block went up and Jazz found himself alone, staring at the ceiling. He x-vented and shuttered his optics, spending just a few more selfish moments thinking of his mate before he pulled up his deep cover profile and started to piece it back into himself. It helped a lot that Flint wasn't as different from Jazz as some of his covers were, but the rough, hard scrapping brawler-thief-con artist turned Decepticon had enough differences, especially in morality, that it took time for Jazz to let control of his frame go to the construct he didn't completely like. 

At least Flint had a pretty easy-going nature, liked to joke and hang out with his fellows, even if he was mostly doing it so he knew what the weaknesses were around him. He always liked to know how to bring those around him down. Preferably as naturally-looking as possible. It was something Jazz did as well, though he did it because of Ops training and hoped he never had to use anything he learned.

Jazz opened his optics again and dropped into a soft reboot and Flint looked up at the ceiling, bringing up his schedule. These orns off were a pain to schedule and always threw him off for at least a decaorn. Still, they were necessary for the mission and helpful for Jazz to maintain his independence from Flint. The construct didn't like the orns off for a different reason. Flint hated the favors he needed to trade for time he wasn't going to be able to use. Even if he didn't know who or what was in his frame, there were brief moments when he knew there was _something_ there that could control him. Every time he tried to think about it, though, he suddenly would find himself contemplating something else entirely and forget the whole thing.

Flint frowned and cocked his head, wondering why he'd taken an entire orn off to do absolutely nothing. Personal days weren't his style, and it wasn't like he needed them. He would get so much more rest drinking and partying.

Oh well, it was over and he did feel rested, if restless at the same time. He had six joors until the start of his next duty shift and figured he might have a little fun before then. It was time to hit the rec room and see who was up for some carousing and maybe a good overload before shift change.

He could hear the chatter from the next level down, nearly everyone who was off-duty would gather there to unwind from the day. When he got in and looked around he immediate spotted the neon orange flash of one of his fellow interrogators, a quirky, fun-loving two-wheeler called Verge. 

"Hey there, pretty," Jazz called to him.

"Well _there_ you are," Verge said, dancing over and grinning up at him. "Been kinda scarce! What's up?"

"Not much," Jazz said easily as he caught Verge in a warm embrace. "Every so often I just want an orn to recharge all the way out."

"You're weird," Verge chuckled. "C'mon, first round is on me, but only if you agree to set aside some time after next duty shift." 

"Deal," Jazz purred and slipped his fingers teasingly along the edge of armor platting.

"Now see, you should've just spent your orn off with me," Verge said, and tilted his helm a little as Jazz's claws ghosted up along his neck. "Well _you're_ in a good mood."

Jazz grinned, red visor glinting. He liked Verge. The mech was skilled, entertaining, and _useful._ He'd been in the game longer than Flint, and had taught the new interrogator some good tricks. Their public flirting left little to the imagination and afforded both of them an extra level of security. Messing with someone else's frag was a good way to lose your own. They both already had enough of a reputation to keep those inclined to test such things at bay. Even by Decepticon standards where all the fair, Flint was known to fight dirty. His skills gave him knowledge of how to cause pain and disability without leaving damage. It was a terrifying concept to most.

Their teasing dance escalated for several kliks until engines began to rev around them.

"Wanna play?" Jazz purred, teasing at Verge's hardline. 

"Oh yeah," Verge grinned and slid the panel open to several sharp revs from around the room. They plugged in, but when the handshakes were attempted, both refused.

Jazz grinned back and sent a low-power pulse over to mingle with the first firewall rather than try to break it.

"I'm glad we're on the same line here," Verge said as he sent out his own feelers, tickling Jazz's firewall. The dance began to mirror the exchange, grips tightening on each other's hips, the steps getting a little more forceful. 

"Hard not to be," Jazz sent a ripple to tease at the first firewall, each electron penetrating that much deeper while he carefully reinforced his own where it was weakened. It was already feeling good just from the feedback of his energy being returned. The next pulse was carefully modulated so one very random point matched Verge's frequency perfectly. He felt the twinge in Verge's field, quickly followed by a fast back-hack that snuck in using one of Jazz's own data lines for cover, creating a shallow breach. 

~Good trick,~ Jazz groaned at the tingle of pleasure even as he focused on widening the access he had into Verge instead of defending himself. He trusted his stronger firewalls and his own ability to absorb more energy than his lover. He'd be seriously jacked up, but that was half the point. Verge's defenses went up and the pressure eased, but a small, intelligent strand remained to keep hacking, creating pinpoints of weakness and easily dodging the virus traps. Jazz suspected that the plan was to eventually punch through the weakened area. He'd be ready for it. The wall just behind the weakening points was reinforced, but not by enough to seriously weaken him to a strike out of nowhere.

Verge's leg hooked up, pushing Jazz's back before pressing between his legs. He had to step back to keep his balance yet did so with such smoothness it looked to be his idea even to the Decepticons watching. A twist and lift brought Verge's groin against his own with a slow, smooth grind.

~Cheat,~ Verge chuckled as two of their destructive viruses came together, coiled tightly and traded a constant stream of charge. ~You know that two can play that.~ He rocked back, causing them both to moan quietly. 

~I know,~ Jazz purred as he pushed a ball of power along his attack thread to widen the breach in Verge's top firewall enough to render it useless.

Verge shuddered at the influx of charge and pushed it all into backing up his second line of defense. ~First round to you,~ he gasped. 

Jazz grinned and flooded the upper level of Verge's awareness with pleasurable energy without diverting too much from his own defense. All of it--almost all of it--was siphoned and funneled into the attack on his own firewall, the area of perforations growing in size every moment. Despite the shivering that had overtaken the lighter frame, Verge's focus couldn't be shaken. That made it all the better for Jazz. He'd never surrender that fast and he didn't want a lover that surrendered at the first round.

They both groaned and ground against each other as Jazz's first firewall crumbled completely and Verge slammed into the one behind it. Code designed to do nothing more than hack and destroy clashed together, viruses squirmed and tangled in a complex mimic of their flowing dance, each step an attempt to ruin the other's balance. 

Verge shuddered again as Jazz's greater energy reserves and stronger spark poked and broke against his firewall and washed bliss through his upper awareness.

Defenses crumbled away and Verge sent a final, full-strength attack against Jazz's secondary walls before spiraling into a shuddering whiteout, Jazz's awareness flooding forward into his processors. 

"Spike him!" someone called to Jazz.

He grinned over at them. "Planning on it," he said as he picked Verge up and used the charge snapping at his circuits to speed the walk to his berth. He sent sharp, direct pulses deep into Verge's code the entire time, keeping the other interrogator effectively helpless while he walked. There was noted protest, along with intense enjoyment. It was the exact reaction Jazz had when he was on the losing side.

Jazz allowed Verge to regain a bit more coherency once the cycle-former was on his back, legs spread on Jazz's berth. He gave a nuzzle and rubbed his extended spike against Verge's panels. "Open up, pretty."

The cover snapped back as Verge's arms looped around Jazz's neck. "Well played," Verge purred. 

"You taught me the game well," Jazz purred in reply as he nudged the tip of his spike against the rim of Verge's valve and groaned deeply at the tight heat and slickness that greeted him there. "You're always so tight," he shuddered deeply at the smaller frame's valve gripped and squeezed him when he pressed inside.

"You're always so _hard,_ " Verge groaned, arching up. 

"To fill you, stretch you, compress and rub _every_ sensor at once inside you," Jazz panted as he came to a stop with their arrays flush and paused there to grind the arrays together briefly. There was nothing quite like being inside a smaller frametype, or taking a bigger mech in.

"Some orn I'll win again," Verge said with a grin, squirming on Jazz's spike until Jazz began to thrust again. "Then what'll you do?"

"Enjoy it and get better," Jazz panted with each slide of his spike inside that delightfully tight passage.

"Fast learner," Verge gasped before grabbing tight and biting down on Jazz's armor, reduced to muffled groans as Jazz rocked. Jazz returned the bite, marking his lover in turn as his thrusts grew sharper, more forceful as the pleasure surged through Jazz's frame and past his limit.

The whiteout overload overtook them together, trading charge and current between their frames.

Jazz slumped over Verge, who was giggling, field almost giddy.

"That was fun," he said. "Take more off orns, gets you in a mood." 

Jazz chuckled. "I'll be sure to do that," he said, and made himself comfortable until his next duty shift. 

* * *

When Jazz's internal comm went off with the base commander's ID and an order to come to the office, he tensed sharply but didn't let it show. Flint immediately wondered why he was worried and hopped up eagerly. He'd done good work here, that had clearly been noticed. He had absolutely nothing to be concerned about. Jazz carefully shielded his common sense worry from the construct. Flint in some ways wasn't smart enough to realize how bad officers could be. That and his ego couldn't quite let him understand the truth of Decepticon officers.

He signed out of the room he was working in, leaving the Neutral suspected of running messages for Autobots hanging in his chains and walked confidently. The path to the Base CO's office was a short one, as was every walk in this small base. It was still plenty of time for Jazz to bring up a dozen contingencies and for Flint to wonder about what reward was coming.

Beatings and abuse he could handle, but being called to an office mid-shift for it was alarming. Jazz knew to expect the worst and by the time he was pinging at the door he was prepared to face Megatron himself and an entire battalion intent on capturing him and aware of his true identity. Instead what he faced with was the base commander extending a datapad to him.

"Sir?" he asked, fight protocols easing back but still cautious. Flint took the datapad eagerly. 

"You're being transferred to Simfur," the CO said with a grumble. "You'll need to leave within the orn."

Flint skimmed over the reassignment orders excitedly. Simfur was a big complex, he would find dozens of opportunities there in the forms of ranking Decepticon officers and more Autobot prisoners to really show what he could do with. Better than Neutral errand runners, in any case. Not only that, but he'd actually be able to hit an actual _city_ on his off orns, instead of lazing around in his quarters the entire time. Jazz was equally excited, for much different reasons. A base as large as Simful meant he was getting Soundwave's notice and moving closer to his goal.

"Gotcha," Jazz nodded.

"Don't play with that Neutral so long you're late to report in. It's a longer drive than it looks," the CO warned him. "Dismissed."

Flint grinned hugely and headed back to his room, already making plans for the transition. 

* * *

Flint rubbed his hands together as he headed to his quarters, intent on grabbing some credit sticks and a couple shots of jet grade. He'd spent the last two metacycles saving up for these orns off and he fully intended on enjoying himself.

Jazz waited until the door was closed before flicking Flint's fingers over the locking mechanism, so quickly the 'Con interrogator didn't even notice.

As Flint was rummaging around for high grade, Jazz started to creep up. It was a slow process, every time, and a delicate one. If Flint ever caught on, Jazz faced the very real threat of being erased from his own processors. As confident as he was that he had more tricks and skill than the construct, this construct was one of the few that he'd be in a fight for his existence against.

He had no intention of risking it.

Convincing Flint that a quick recharge would increase his energy levels tonight was the first step and Jazz directed their gaze over towards the berth. Flint didn't fight it, he was looking around for anything useful anyway. Jazz held it there for a moment before tugging at the shutdown initiation. He didn't start it, just enough to bring it to Flint's mind. He felt Flint debate it, watched the thoughts as they moved. It wasn't long before Flint flopped onto the berth and relaxed into a shutdown.

The shutdown was halted at the last moment and Jazz surged forward, tracing familiar pathways back into himself. Flint wasn't prepared to fight but he put up a good effort before Jazz had the construct packed away into a compressed file, running a full purge on its last nanokliks of awareness before locking it away.

He reversed the shutdown sequences and stretched, groaning. It felt good to move freely. He took a few breams to enjoy it, dancing in his small quarters to fully indulge until it was time to settle down and take down the block on the bond. It was done as carefully as the construct was taken down. Jazz was early, by nearly half an orn, but nothing had gone wrong this time and sometimes Prowl could be early too.

Not this time, he realized as the bond fully opened up and he found it quiet. In case Prowl was busy, Jazz kept still until his mate could join. Without knowing what was going on, it wasn't safe to distract him. It could be something as simple as recharge, or as bad as a battle. Though it was rare, there were times when one at least one of them couldn't make it.

Jazz had to wait almost seven joors before Prowl could unblock his side, but when the Praxian realized Jazz was already there it came down fast and he rushed across to embrace his other half. Jazz collided against him, arms physically going out with the strength of his desire to _hold_ his mate. ~Primus, babe, I missed you,~ he gasped as their sparks reached for each other, halfway across the planet. 

~I missed you so much.~ Prowl replied, unable to do more than hold his love's spark for many long kliks.

~You're feeling better,~ Jazz said after a while of simply enjoying in the closeness after half a vorn without. ~I guess Prime's really helping.~

~He does,~ Prowl didn't hide his gratitude towards their leader, or exactly what the help felt like. The strong frame partially shielding his. The powerful and calm field enveloping him. The sensation of letting go as Prowl slipped into recharge feeling safe, rather than too exhausted to keep going. ~It's not like having you with me but he helps enough that I can focus on my duties.~

~Good,~ Jazz said with a smile. ~Don't think either of us expected it would be this hard. Something to talk about for the next one.~

~And work that much harder to avoid another one,~ Prowl said before he even thought about it. ~Yes, do more preparation for next time. How is this mission going?~

~I got transferred,~ Jazz said. ~So far it seems to be a good thing, no indications that anyone is suspicious of my cover. I'm at the Simfur complex now, seeing a lot more officers coming and going, and it's a popular stop on the way to DDC. If I get lucky, maybe Soundwave's noticed me, doing my best to get some results worth talking about.~

~Wouldn't Soundwave know it's _you?_ ~ Prowl tried to calm his fear. ~Telepath.~

~Construct, babe,~ Jazz soothed. ~No one makes 'em better than me, and unless he's given reason to really start mining, that's all Soundwave will get. There's a reason I make them so powerful.~

~Oh. That's good,~ Prowl accepted the statement and for the first time Jazz actually understood that his mate didn't understand what a construct was in SpecOps terms. There was a moment of silence. ~Does it make the mission easier?~

~Makes it possible,~ Jazz said. ~Wouldn't say they make it easier.~

~As long as you're safe,~ Prowl said.

~They make it safer,~ Jazz promised. ~You know it'll never be _safe._ ~ 

~I know.~ Prowl went silent for a long moment before shoving the entire concept away. This was not something he wanted to spend these few precious joors with his mate discussing. ~Love you. Miss you. Want you safe and home.~

~Doing everything in my power to get there,~ Jazz promised. ~Got some good info this time, though. Well, useful. I don't know about good, but there you have it. The missing strike team out of Polyhex _was_ taken to DDC. We need to assume everything they knew is compromised.~

Prowl whined at the hurt that a mission he had planned had gone so wrong and immediately pinged Whiplash, Ironhide, Red Alert and Trailbreaker with the update. They had all taken some precautions when the team had gone missing, but this was confirmation and more needed to happen. ~Better to know than not,~ he sighed and passed on the few MIAs to have occurred in the last few metacycles.

Jazz confirmed the ones he'd seen and the ones he hadn't, updated Prowl on the full list of POWs he'd seen, neutrals included, and what he'd seen from the inside of Simfur. It took up nearly half the orn they had to spend together. ~Things aren't going great for us, are they,~ Jazz murmured. 

~They haven't since Megatron escaped the first time,~ Prowl sighed. ~Sentinel ignored my advice then as Optimus so often does now.~

~But you like Optimus,~ Jazz prodded. He'd rarely heard Prowl complain of their current Prime.

~Yes. He is a good mecha, a good leader. Peace under him at least has a chance of stabilizing. It doesn't mean he hasn't made mistakes,~ Prowl tried to explain the contradiction of his loyalty to a mech he just accused of failing them.

Jazz was quiet, contemplating that. ~Just means we have to do the best we can,~ he said. ~Any more business to take care of?~

~Nothing on my side,~ Prowl was hopeful they could spent the rest of their time in the long-distance merge.

~Good,~ Jazz said with a relieved sigh as he cleared his mind of everything but feeling his mate. 


	3. Keeping Cover

Flint was feeling good. He'd just come off shift and had completely broken some Autobot grunt. Stupid mech didn't know much, but those watching had been pleased and that was just as good as a good bit of intel for him.

::Get your aft to the control room. NOW!:: the base commander barked over the comm sharply enough to startle him and make Jazz really start paying attention.

Flint cocked his head and pinged back an affirmative, curious but concerned as he headed that way. He felt a moment of fear and tension, a flurry of activity that was gone too quickly to see, and he wrote it off as illogical panic at something strange.

Jazz was alarmed, trying to keep the construct from sensing that, but Flint was concerned all on his own, which worried him even more than the summons. Flint wasn't supposed to get worried, he was designed to be far too arrogant for that. So it was a slightly concerned Flint and a very concerned Jazz that walked into the command center and all questions were immediately answered with the large image of the army's TIC and Commander of Intelligence.

"Flint: will interrogate prisoner 185622 until Soundwave arrives. ETA: two decaorns."

Flint stared in awe at the famed Decepticon commander. "Yes, sir," he said, and then felt compelled to ask, with a tug on his pride, "Why me, sir?"

"Flint: most effective interrogator in range," Soundwave responded, then cut the transmission. As the screen went black, pretty much everyone in the room turned to stare at him.

"Well," Flint said with a grin. "Guess I've got some work to do." He logged into the datanet to find the room and notes. What it didn't say was far more enlightening than what it did. Nowhere did a designation become attached to the prisoner number. Though that the guard of at least two very powerful frontliners were never to leave the room was interesting.

In all, Jazz was sure he was about to walk into an officer's interrogation. He was skimming through the most recent list he had of missing officers, those suspected deactivated or not. Flint palmed over the door and walked in eagerly, and had a moment to wonder at the familiarity of the face before Jazz realized what he was seeing and scrambled to create an explanation for the familiarity. Keep Flint naive and subdued, first and foremost.

Flint realized why the mech was so familiar. He'd seen pictures before, one of the most influential mecha in the Autobots' ranks. Their _Second in Command!_ Oh Primus, he was going to get to interrogate the second most powerful Autobot still functioning. 

With a giddy grin Flint sauntered up to Prowl's unconscious form and reached out to stroke a doorwing without thinking of why. It twitched under his fingers and Flint rocked happily on his pedes. He was going to have so much fun.

So why wasn't he more excited? There was nothing to be nervous about. It was a high-profile case and he would get to show _Soundwave_ what he knew how to do. He'd crack the Autobot, leave him weeping and broken.

Jazz tried not to panic as Prowl's field warmed with his startup. He had to get Prowl out. He had to tell Prowl who he was without letting Flint know. He didn't know how to do that without disabling Flint, and he didn't know how to disable Flint quickly without a fight. He needed time to creep up. He needed to let Flint do what he wanted to buy that time.

_Oh Primus._

He was actually going to have to watch as his frame tortured and molested his bonded. This would be the ultimate test of his training and will, and Prowl's life depended on his ability to pull it off.

"Good evening, Autobot," Flint purred as Prowl's optics lit dimly.

There was a moment of confusion on Prowl's features, proof that he'd been unconscious when captured, but it didn't last long. Those sharp, fast processors locked onto the relevant data and went into data protection mode. Jazz honestly had no clue what that meant, or even how much training Prowl had, but to him, it was clear that Prowl had some tricks to protect himself and his intel.

He hoped they stood up to the interrogator he'd crafted.

Intensely aware of the guards watching behind him, Jazz started the agonizingly slow process of regaining control over his own frame without alerting the delighted construct. At least Flint was distracted, almost intoxicated with the glee of this assignment.

Jazz felt sick. 

"Such a pretty frame. There's no reason for me to ruin it if you cooperate," Flint opened with a standard offer that no one actually took but established that he wasn't going to work over an ally.

"No." Prowl's tone was calm and determined.

"Well, maybe just a little ruining, then," Flint said, admiring the doorwing under his fingers. Smooth, white, the perfect backdrop for the gorgeous shining pink of spilled energon. His claws scraped at the finish. "I think you'll cooperate before the end. I'm _very_ good."

"So am I," Prowl smiled with a look that bordered on malicious. It was enough to make Jazz briefly wonder if Prowl had been completely scrambled when he was captured.

Jazz pushed a suggestion carefully up into Flint's awareness.

"Do you know where you are, Autobot?"

Prowl refused to answer, and the smile remained. It was really starting to creep Jazz out.

"You don't want to know where your frame will be smelted?" Flint hummed, and put more pressure against the doorwing. "Guess that's up to you. We'll just start with the basics, give you a taste of how the next few decaorns are going to go if you don't cooperate." A shock baton was slipped from subspace so smoothly that Jazz couldn't even feel it until the weight settled in his palm, and then it was being rammed into Prowl's front grill. 

The surge of electricity tried to arch Prowl's frame from the berth but it was strapped and bolted down. Despite what had to be intense pain, Prowl didn't cry out. Only his panting vents gave away that he'd even felt it.

"Oh this'll be fun," Flint purred, and turned the current up, holding it there until Prowl's x-vents were near scorching. Flint pulled back and smirked, then felt an odd twinge of guilt as he looked at the gasping frame.

Jazz shrank back. He was moving too fast.

Flint snarled and struck the Praxian's face, claws out, ripping through the thinner plating on one side, leaving a sparking, gaping wound. 

That Prowl seemed to flinch away from, or at least he reacted more than to the current. Still Prowl managed to keep his field steady and unyielding.

"Oh, you don't like that?" Flint latched onto it immediately, striking again, just above the first hit, closer to the optics. "No one cares how you look in here, nothing to be worried about." 

Prowl hissed in pain, yet his field spoke of anger more than hurt.

Flint thought it was an odd response and he grabbed the Praxian's chin and yanked his face around to meet his optics with the red visor. "You don't care about being tortured and hacked for intel, but you care about your _face?_ " 

"What I care about is my concern, traitor," Prowl hissed even as he buried his surprise at how wrong this Decepticon was.

"You have to betray something to be a traitor," Flint said sweetly. "Something neither of us have done, but that won't be a similarity for much longer." He dug his fingers into the gaping wound on Prowl's jaw. "Base locations, darling. We'll start simple." 

Prowl's optics flared brightly as pain lit up his field but he held his silence.

Jazz tried to focus on Flint as his love's wires were mutilated, pulled delicately from his face and stripped bare with precision claws. Flint found them beautiful in their exposed state and Jazz had to fight hard to keep his construct from feeling sick to his tanks.

Worse still, Flint was getting off on it. He always did--it was one of the things they had in common that made them both so good at their work--but Flint never felt any guilt from it. And he was getting off _hard_ from Prowl, fascinated by the way the Praxian's features contorted in pain, drinking in the anger in the field.

The fantasies he was creating--vile, horrifying, twisted--were things that Jazz wasn't sure his mate would be able to recover from. Watching his construct do those things to his mate with his frame wasn't something Jazz was sure he'd recover from. If it got even close to that far both of them were going to be spending a very long time useless to the war effort. It was bad no matter how he looked at it and when Prowl finally screamed and struggled Jazz felt Flint's shiver of arousal-pleasure as sickening pain.

It had been moving down to start stripping the wires of his throat that had done it and Jazz was sure the pleasure Prowl gained in exposing those cables and tubes to a lover was the same sensitivity and vulnerability that that took much of the reaction's control from Prowl. Prowl's field was still rich with anger and stubborn defiance, but there was fear and pain beyond the physical there now too.

"You break so quickly," Flint breathed, pressing his mouth against Prowl's neck. His glossa squirmed between some damaged cables, licking up the energon that leaked from the wounds, felt Prowl's repulsed shudder, and moaned.

Flint didn't usually focus in like this. He spent some time on the basics, testing strengths and weaknesses without really engaging. Too self-absorbed to question _why_ he would be rubbing against this prisoner so soon, Jazz knew it was his influence and a by-product of being in his frame. For a brief moment Flint allowed himself to genuinely underestimate the value of what he already knew and his jaw moved a bit too close to Prowl's mouth.

Pain hit as Prowl's denta clamped down on the interrogator's jaw and Prowl thrashed his helm to cause as much damage as he could.

Flint jerked back with a sharp curse, quickly striking back across Prowl's face before stalking away to gather himself. He wasn't in the right processor set for this, he was having an off orn. Even though he _didn't_ have off orns. It must be starting this one right after he got off shift. He was still wound up from the last Autobot.

Narrowed optics went back to Prowl, field cold, humiliated that the two guards had seen the mistake. Here he was, trusted by _Soundwave,_ acting like an amateur.

Time to go back to square one, and _really_ work this Autobot over. No games, no distractions. 

Prowl simply kept an even gaze on him, his expression just as cold as Flint's.

Jazz wondered if he'd ever been prouder of his mate the entire time they'd known each other and reached up through Flint's arrogance. It was the easiest access point, and it would be the quickest, now.

Flint started in with the basic tools and Jazz stopped focusing on what was happening around him and worked from within. Now that Flint was back on pattern, it would be easier to sneak up on him. There was a moment where Flint put both hands solidly on Prowl's chest plate and Jazz launched his attack. Braced at four points and stable, the frame barely shifted in the nanoklils it took Jazz to box up Flint and wipe the moment. He'd have to construct fake memories this time instead of just blocking them, but he had the frame back and now he could safely open the bond.

Prowl's block on the bond was halfway down, broken by the battle when he'd been captured and the torture he'd already endured. Jazz pushed against the bond gently while he dug his claws into the center chest seam, keeping Flint's--his--grin in place. 

The last of the block crumbled and Prowl fixated on that just long enough to send a burst message. ~POW. Interrogated. Simfur likely.~

~I know,~ Jazz whispered and suddenly had much more of Prowl's attention. ~You have to work with me babe, this is really important. Focus past the pain, promise me you won't react to what I'm going to tell you.~

~Agreed,~ Prowl said with the firmness of writing it into a top level protocol.

~I'm your interrogator,~ Jazz said. ~I'm--It's me.~ He met Prowl's optics, still grinning as he worked at the seam. ~And--oh, Primus--I'm so sorry, love, we're going to have to do this. I'm so sorry.~

~Then I am beyond lucky,~ Prowl shuddered in pain physically but relief emotionally. ~Whatever I need to do, I will do.~

~I took the construct down,~ Jazz said, pulling out the shock baton. ~The guards will be teeking. Soundwave will be watching.~ He shoved the weapon into the small gap he'd created and turned it on, held it for nearly a klik. With the bond this open Jazz realized exactly why it hadn't bothered his mate before. All the protections the tac-net came with meant Prowl didn't feel much of the charge, though it did a fine job of scrambling Prowl's general thought.

Despite that, by halfway in Prowl keened in pain, that while quite real, was also being exaggerated.

"I like your screams," Jazz purred, pulling the baton out. ~If Soundwave has reason to come in here, I'm not protected from him. I might have to let the construct back out if that happens. That's--he's the one who was in here before me. I got the frame back, but if I do that much more he could start fighting me. This isn't a stable way to control him.~

~Do what you must, love. Remember, if you are discovered all is lost. You must finish your mission. They won't deactivate me. I'm far too valuable,~ Prowl said firmly as his frame began to relax from the chaotic charge that had been shoved into it.

~You're not wrong,~ Jazz said. He reached up to Prowl's neck and tightened his fingers around it, digging into the cables. ~I'm supposed to work you over until Soundwave has the time for you. I'm going to figure out how to get you out before then.~

~The Autobots know the convoy was attacked. They will be looking for me,~ Prowl offered even as his frame went rigid and tried to thrash. Despite his best efforts, Prowl couldn't hide how panic inducing this was for him.

Jazz latched onto it. If he could make Prowl truly panic, the guards would teek it better.

He immediately hated himself as Prowl's field spiked and the bond muted. Everything in Prowl fixated on controlling his pain-fear. He didn't have the energy to spare for his mate. It was a pure survival mode that overrode all his logic and tactical centers.

Jazz choked back the repulsion and kept pressing forward. Now that he was in control, he knew where the sensitive spots were. To save both of them, he had to _hurt_ his mate. 

He wondered if he would ever be able to kiss Prowl's neck again after this.

He scraped along one of the exposed wires and heard Prowl's shriek, dimly, trying not to think about it. If not him, someone else. It might as well be him. He could make it easier and let Prowl make it seem worse.

Had to look real.

~I'm so sorry,~ Jazz whispered as he went in with his mouth. Prowl went rigid under him and he sobbed on the inside. Instinct, hard coded reactions, held him still but couldn't hold back the fact that his grip on reality was already beginning to falter from the pain. ~Stay with me,~ Jazz said. ~Stay here, focus on me. It's temporary. Everything is temporary, pain, pleasure, frames. Focus on me.~ 

~Okay,~ Prowl replied weakly. With his processors in such a turmoil it was easy to fall back to his oldest training of obedience. He locked himself onto Jazz and their bond as tightly as he could.

With Prowl at least somewhat more able to handle things Jazz bit and pulled one of the cables, one that would put out sparks without damaging fuel lines, then stepped back, purring, licking his claws. ~Have you had training for this?~ 

~Only what an Enforcer expected. Blaster, fire, shock, chemical,~ Prowl was shaking but his thoughts were more clear now that new damage wasn't being inflicted. ~Keep working through pain.~

~Okay,~ Jazz said, trying to center himself. He was trained for a lot of things, ready to react to hundreds of unexpected changes in his mission ... but this was not one of them. ~Okay, we can work with that.~ He kept cleaning off his claws, slowly, making a show of it. ~This is the same thing. Focusing on me is your work, you're going to do that through the pain.~

~I will,~ Prowl promised. ~How should I act?~

~In pain,~ Jazz said. ~Rigid. Move more near the start of the sessions, but you should look locked up by the end. Your 'net is doing a good job helping absorb the shock so we'll keep using it. Keep reminding yourself that there's an end. Tell me if you need a break.~ Jazz paused and turned around to browse the weapons tools mounted on the wall. ~If I don't--if I don't rape you it might get noticed. That's part of Flint's style.~

~You cannot rape the willing,~ Prowl pointed out. ~I will act as if I do not wish it. I will play the part needed of me.~

~Okay,~ Jazz said. ~I'm going to use a knife now. Sharp pain, imagine something spicy and sweet when you feel it. They're linked to similar places in the processor.~ He selected one of the slender blades that he would be able to block with his arm, so as not to dig as deep. He could feel the uncertainty in his bonded at the description, but also Prowl's firm determination to follow instructions to the glyph.

~If you can, please avoid major joints,~ Prowl whispered, his tone one of not expecting Jazz to be able, but hoping anyway.

~I'll aim for the struts when I get there,~ Jazz said, turning around with his selection and a flashing grin. ~I'll disconnect a few joints, that'll make it look worse than it is. Not completely broken, but you won't have mobility. It's a quick fix though, for when it's time for you to run.~ 

Prowl sent a sense of understanding over the bond and kept his optics focused on Jazz and the blade. Instinctive, but not in the way of most. Even without the bond Jazz could see the difference from the untrained. Prowl was watching for how Jazz would move, not just one where the blade was.

~Good, love,~ he praised, falling back onto his own memories of being trained for this, what felt like lifetimes ago. ~Warm candies, so spicy they hurt, so sweet you can't stop eating them.~ He imagined them together in their home in Praxus, Prowl leaning against him as Jazz slipped one of the candies into his mouth. As the imagined Prowl closed his mouth around Jazz's fingers, Jazz flooded a memory of taste over and slipped the knife into Prowl's hip. 

The scream Prowl sounded was real, but Prowl's processors obeyed the order to think of spice and the bond. Much as he did to hunger when there was either none or no time for it, his frame gave warnings and was ignored. Unlike those times, the frame did as it wished in response.

~I know it hurts, I know,~ Jazz whispered. He had to force himself to keep the knife in, digging around close to the joint but not damaging it. He wanted to grab his mate and start shooting, but that would just guarantee they both died in here. ~Just another klik, stay with me.~ Prowl's entire body jerked as he twisted the blade. Jazz pushed the image of their glossas slipping together, sharing the spicy flavor. ~...And three, two, one.~ The blade pulled out. 

Despite the whimpering that escaped Prowl's vocalizer as his frame slumped in relief, Prowl's mind and spark were steady and fixed on Jazz. Prowl didn't have quite the attention to form glyphs to share anymore, but the sense of relief and that he was still holding on strong and was with Jazz was there.

~You're doing so good, love,~ Jazz said, placing the tip of the blade on Prowl's doorwing. He walked slowly around, dragging it, leaving a scratch in the finish as he moved. "Tell me about your base," he said. 

Prowl hissed, a sound that was equal parts aggression, pain and denial. His spark gave thanks for the encouragement and assurance that he was still strong and holding on.

"Come, now," Jazz purred. "Anything, the smallest detail. Wouldn't want to hurt these pretty wings, would we? You can prevent that, you know. It's very easy." 

~Should I?~ Prowl was too stressed to make sense of the numbers his tac-net was giving him.

~No,~ Jazz said, quickly running through a new angle Prowl would have to learn. ~You break this soon, Soundwave will think it's suspicious that I don't get more. Everything you say is going to be fact-checked real-time, don't ever think we're not being watched. You're too important. I'll tell you when to release something, and what to say. You just keep thinking about treats and enduring this. Insult me when you can, be defiant.~ The knife tip dug in a little. 

Prowl's hiss turned into a growl that sounded genuine even to Jazz. Prowl had very real anger for fuel and no shortness of will to be defiant with. "Sine civitas," he spat at Jazz.

Jazz had heard the insult thrown at him often after surfacing in Praxus to make a life there. He fell back onto the memories of the anger he'd felt every time it had been spat at him and made sure the guards felt his teek before slamming the knife straight down, puncturing through the doorwing. "I always did hate Praxians," he snarled, as Prowl screamed and went rigid.

"You are nothing but sine civitas!" Prowl managed to growl through the static.

"And you're _mine_ ," Jazz said, twisting the knife, letting an unhinged grin cross his face at the way Prowl jerked. "What does that make _you?_ " 

Prowl's optics flashed white in a show of more pain than there really was, though it did hurt a lot. His frame trembled and his vocalizer spit static when he tried to respond.

"Good answer," Jazz hissed, and yanked the blade out. ~Is it easier if you know what's coming, or do you not want to know?~

~To know,~ Prowl answered the only way he could. Knowledge was better. Though in that was also that it didn't need to be detailed knowledge. Blade and doorwing were enough.

~It'll be blade and doorwing for a while,~ Jazz said. ~Focus on sweet and spicy. Start a timer, we'll be done in six joors.~

~Understood,~ Prowl accepted the instructions without question and prepared to do his best. Jazz steeled himself and drove the knife back in. 

* * *

Six joors later, Jazz pulled the knife out of a barely-conscious, trembling, exhausted Prowl. ~We're done,~ Jazz whispered as he cleaned the blade. Relief surged from Prowl, though at this point the mech was no longer truly lucid. "I'll let you think about what we've discussed," he said, and grinned. "But don't worry about disappointing me by staying silent, I've got even more fun planned for later." 

A low moan thick with static answered.

"Get that thing fixed up. Only the essentials," Jazz told the guards on his way out, and then began the suddenly-long walk back to his quarters.

Jazz had never felt so exposed walking through these halls. One wrong teek, one misstep, anything that could draw suspicion or--worse--Soundwave's attention--would be fatal for him and his mate. Not having a construct to shield him from those around him was honestly terrifying. He needed recharge, badly. He needed Prowl to be coherent badly. He _had_ to get word out to the Autobots as to where Prowl was before Soundwave picked him up and he disappeared forever.

Right now, he was so stressed that he couldn't even place them in order and walk at the same time. One of his fellow interrogators turned the corner ahead of him and Jazz focused sharply, thinking of Flint, doing his best to shift his field to a mimic of the construct's. It wasn't hard, but he had to focus all his concentration on it, and he felt his spark trembling with anxiety by the time he was out of teeking range. 

His frame wanted to tremble in relief when he was sure he'd made it past the test. It was a good test too. Someone who had spent a fair amount of time around Flint. He'd made it. There were his quarters up ahead. He was just about home free for a few joors. He just needed to fabricate some memories and create a plan. Two easy steps. Palming the door made Flint twitch and Jazz clamped down on him. The takedown had been sloppy, but that was the price for speed.

He got inside with a relieved x-vent, fighting the urge to sink to the floor and curl up. One never knew who was watching, but one could be sure that someone could be. So he went to his berth and sat down only to realize he was still a mess from the interrogation. He could have an excuse for that at least. He had just pulled a long double shift. Fishing around he found a clean polishing cloth and wiped the worst off before sinking onto his back to fake the recharge he actually needed.

First up: lock down Flint better.

The construct's partial awareness wasn't a state he'd ever been designed to handle. That required nearly double the coding and it shouldn't have been necessary for a deep cover identity. Jazz put up his firewalls and drew inward, setting frame movement to mimic recharge, and steeled himself to tackle the angry snarl of code that was one of his best creations. 

~Get out of my frame!~ Flint launched himself at Jazz the instant he had enough awareness to do so.

~It's my frame, young one,~ Jazz said, easily grabbing the attack virus that Flint flung at him. ~Hold still, you won't remember any of this in a few kliks. It's okay.~

Flint snarled and tried to block off areas he thought were important, but in doing so he left himself vulnerable to one who knew their systems better.

Jazz made it look easier than it was, but that was an important part of the battle. Not to let an enemy realize how hard he was working or how close they were to winning. With the viruses caught and neutralized, Jazz slipped in under their paths and grabbed the ties on the center of Flint's coding and pulled them apart. The construct had a panicked moment to feel himself falling apart before Jazz was putting up firewalls between every line, isolating Flint, quite literally, from himself. 

It was exhausting and Jazz really did need to rest. He also needed a plan. Even as he settled in to try to think rather than fall into recharge, he felt a light pulse across the bond.

Jazz opened the bond. ~I'm generating some memories for my construct,~ he said. ~Rewriting the code into something I can flip on and off. Not as solid feeling, but it'll have to do. I need something ready if I run into Soundwave.~

~Which you will,~ Prowl agreed. ~I'm too important for anyone else to transport, but not the kind that Megatron wants to gloat over.~ He paused briefly. ~Did we do well?~

~Considering? Yeah,~ Jazz answered honestly. ~It wasn't perfect, and I'm not sure it won't gain some attention. But it was as good as it could have been.~

~Good. What can I do to help?~ Prowl asked, all business.

~I need some time to think of a working plan for this,~ Jazz said. ~ Knowing you can take what I'm giving really helps. Try to think of something you can give up that will check out without hurting us too bad. Several if you can.~

~I can supply hundreds,~ Prowl replied easily, feeling better at that. ~I know a lot that isn't tactically important.~

~Great. Think of at least ten things we'll plan to give them, ten as backup,~ Jazz said. ~I need to concentrate right now, love.~

~Nudge me when you are ready to know what I will give up,~ Prowl sent a wave of affection, support and trust in his mate and his mate's skill.

Jazz brushed back, trying to keep his stress from reaching Prowl. Prowl would have enough to be stressed about in the coming orns, he didn't need his love feeling that from him. _He_ was in control now, and he had to get them both out safely.

His processor hurt from where Flint had lashed out at him, and Jazz still wasn't convinced the construct was entirely docile. He was even less convinced that it would be effective against Soundwave, but without an independent workstation he didn't want to do any more editing. Editing _live_ was probably one of the more stupid things Jazz had ever done on a mission, but it wasn't like he'd had a choice. 

Okay, so he had had a choice. Option A) edit live. Option B) leave Flint to torture Prowl and then allow him to be turned over to Soundwave and the DDC. Option C) Scuttle the mission and break them both out.

Like B and C were an option to anyone with a lick of common sense on how important Prowl was to the war effort. Sure, Prime was the leader, the motivator, but Prowl was the one with the plans to keep everyone alive.

So, what were the plans when the mission went sideways but his cover was intact? It was set up assuming Prime or Ratchet were most likely, but all of the Prime's inner circle of officers and a couple others were on that list.

He had a dead drop set up not too far outside this complex, but getting to it would be tricky. Anything that involved contacting the Autobots without Prowl was a worse case scenario. He needed to send out a signal that the drop was live, then figure out a message and get it there. _Prowl has been captured, he's here, come get him?_ Not enough, Jazz would have to lower security. He needed someone else brought in for direct contact.

There were a handful of agents he knew could pull it off with such short notice, but this was his mate's life. He only wanted the best coming in to help him. That meant Whiplash himself, or Mirage. The younger agent had all the stuck-up and self-important traits of his former class, but even Prowl said he was one of the best, and as much as it annoyed him, Jazz had to agree. The disruptor field made Mirage valuable, but it was the mech's skill at wiggling into and out of tight places and snipe at extreme range that made him among the best and was what really paid for his keep.

All things considered, Mirage was a better choice. Prowl wasn't going to be in good enough condition to run, much less roll out. That field, so long as Mirage had enough energy, could cover them both during a slow walk to the relative safety of an Autobot safehouse in the city.

Now just to arrange the details. If he could get a live call going, that would be best, but figuring that out would take time. Time meant pain for Prowl.

Exhaustion tugged at Jazz, the overwhelming need to recharge catching up. As much as he wanted to keep going a tiny voice that sounded suspiciously like his mate reminded him that a rested processor was an efficient processor. He was sure it was in retaliation for him having told Prowl that so many times.

With an internal sigh Jazz pulled away from his planning and retreated inward to shut down.


	4. Making Time

Jazz roused with his alarm and lay still for a few kliks, watching his own booting process closely. Every line was scrutinized for sabotage and consistency, because there was no such thing as being too safe.

But he booted up with no problems and sat, stretching. Flint would go spent a few joors in the rec room right now, so that's where Jazz would go. The hard decision was whether to have the construct running right now or to just fake it. Depending on the crowd, faking it could get him discovered, but trying out an untested construct could also get him dead.

Faking it it was. If he was found out, he could tell Prowl, and Prowl wasn't going to be at risk of execution for a long time to come.

It was strange to see these faces through his own optics instead of Flint's, but Jazz knew them well enough and he moved easily through the crowd. They had similar socializing styles and Jazz was relaxed and enjoying himself.

No one looked twice at him, and he got a few purred offers for company later. Jazz purred right back, making a few dates for later.

When his shift came up, Jazz pulled away from the heated flirting exchange he was having in a back corner and made his way out, groping a few of Flint's favorite 'faces as he passed by. 

~Love?~ Jazz nudged to his mate out of a light recharge and waited until Prowl indicated he was coherent enough. ~I'm headed your way again, as Flint.~

~Understood,~ Prowl replied with thanks for the warning and a warm welcome. No matter what this required, Prowl would never blame his bonded.

As Jazz walked, each step felt heavier than the last. Reacting and adapting had been fairly simple, dealing with his construct, tricky but at least a goal. Surviving the session, an understandable necessity. Now...

Now his goal was to torture Prowl and make it real. He palmed open the door and slipped in, kicking his engines into a purr. "Miss me?" he crooned. 

"As much as I miss a murderer I put down," Prowl growled at him.

"Cute," Jazz said with a grin, pulling a favored knife out and balancing it on his finger as he walked. " _Really_ can't wait to sink inside you, cutie," he purred as he reached Prowl, flipping the knife to his palm and trailing his fingers along Prowl's thigh. He leaned in, pressing his mouth to Prowl's neck and licking up to his audial. "In more ways than one," he added in a whisper, as he slipped the knife up between Prowl's legs. 

Prowl growl turned to a pained gasp with realization. Fear, genuine fear, laced Prowl's field enough to overwhelm the hate but only briefly. Then it was gone as fast as it came and Jazz had to admire his mate's ability to adapt once more. In a game where the faster, more flexible processor won, Jazz should have it in the bag, yet he didn't. Prowl could because Prowl had three completely independent processor systems entwined to control a single frame. It was the first time Jazz had really witnessed it in real time, the way Prowl could change the ratio of control to suit his needs of the moment.

"Ready to get started?" Jazz purred, and jumped lightly up onto the table Prowl was strapped to, settling into a straddle over his hips. "Thought we'd revisit a few favorites today." ~Going for your doorwings first,~ Jazz said. ~Same as last time. Try to find the way you felt near the end, you reached a really good coping place there.~

~I can do that,~ Prowl responded even as he screamed when the blade drew energon. The tac-net drew on data, the Enforcer on its function-specific ability to become what was needed and never look back, and Prowl himself provided the memories and the agreement to let the other two submerge him for his protection.

~Good,~ Jazz praised. ~So good, love. We're going to move on from the knife today, but not for a few joors, so settle yourself here.~ The knife twisted deeper. Prowl's frame screamed and tried to pull away even though all six limbs were solidly bolted down. 

~I'm good,~ Prowl promised quietly through the bond, knowing he didn't teek or feel that way. ~How are you holding up?~

~Me?~ Surprise flickered across the bond. ~I'm fine. Figuring things out.~ Jazz tried not to look at Prowl's face, set in an agonized grimace. ~I'm going to get you out of here.~

~Without getting yourself hurt.~ Prowl insisted in a way that warned Jazz that getting Jazz back when the mission was over was the primary thing Prowl was holding onto. It was what he had held onto for so many vorns already. Someorn, Jazz would come back to him and be whole when he did.

~You're more important than me,~ Jazz whispered. 

~Without you, I do not continue,~ Prowl offered an unpolished truth that while many knew, only Prowl was willing to say. ~You're the only reason I keep fighting this insanity.~

~Then I'll get out too,~ Jazz said. ~Or I won't and it doesn't matter. If I'm careful, we can make it. It'll mean more of this.~ The knife twisted in.

~I can manage,~ Prowl said more firmly than he really felt. ~We've survived too much to give up now. Or leave me and get to the Autobot lines. I can tell you where I am, you can track me instead of the other way. You know they'll take me where they take all VIPs.~

~ _No._ ~ Jazz let up on the knife so he could have Prowl's full focus and reached up to grab his chin, yanking his helm so he could look into his optics with a bright visor. ~That is not an option here. I do not have the time to teach you how to stand up to Soundwave or Shockwave, much less Flatline, Primus help us. You are not going to be a sacrifice to find that place. Put it out of your plans, right now.~

It wasn't often that Jazz really pushed back when Prowl offered a plan, and for a terrifying quarter-klik he thought Prowl would argue back. Instead a wash of hard-earned trust came across the bond even as the frame remained defiant.

~Good,~ Jazz said with a low growl. He didn't need Prowl getting more ideas like that one. Prowl didn't know it, but Jazz held the codes to his self-destruct, pressed onto him by Whiplash as an extreme contingency. Prowl falling into that kind of captivity would warrant their use. He gripped the knife and slammed it down, piercing right through Prowl's abused doorwing, expressing his very real frustration with the entire situation. 

Under him Prowl keened and cried, sobbed and writhed such as his bindings allowed, but underneath it the spark and coding that was Prowl's core self were stable and fairly calm.

Jazz settled them both into the knife play for a while while he tried to decide what should come next. He knew what Flint would do, but he didn't want to push that hard that fast. He needed to drag this out. So what was something that Soundwave would believe Flint would do next?

Primus.

~Start preparing yourself to lose some armor,~ Jazz murmured to his mate. 

Prowl's whimper of objection was very real, but so was the acceptance across the bond.

~Some mecha have strong emotional attachments to their frames,~ Jazz continued. ~Luckily this won't be as hard for you as most. I'm going to take some pieces with your Praxus symbols,~ he added in a whisper, hating himself and hating the spark-deep denial and sub-conscious pleading for him not to even more. ~I'll leave some. Won't take anything Ratchet can't fix.~

Somehow Prowl found it in him to push acceptance across the bond and even he didn't know how.

~It's better than what comes after it,~ Jazz murmured sadly. ~Remind yourself they're just pieces that we can replace. Only pieces, Your spark will always be of Praxus and no one can take that away from you. Try not to listen to what I'm saying while I'm doing it, I don't want you to start believing it.~

~O-okay.~ Prowl intentionally filtered all audio input even more. He was already shaking and beginning to feel the genuine numbness that came with real shock.

Jazz gritted his denta together and concentrated on his continued mauling of Prowl's doorwings. Denial surged through him as well, as he stared at tattered white plating and made himself believe it wasn't his beloved. Doubt swirled around. He didn't _have_ to take the armor. He could leave the symbols. Why would he rush right to something so sacred to Prowl?

Because every alternative he could think of, every thing on the list of what he'd do to stall discovery and get Prowl out safely, was that much worse.

Should he start with the almost painless but emotionally charged insignia, something that meant so much to Prowl emotionally but was easily repainted and had been touched up countless times, or the physical damage that would hurt more but was easier to tune out because it wasn't _seen_ go away?

He didn't know, he couldn't decide. It was all going to be destroyed in the end. Jazz's spark shuddered. Insignia first. Dull Prowl emotionally before the pain. It might even make the pain _less_ at that point. At least Prowl was already half numb in his spark and fully numb in the higher functions. It wouldn't take much for the intentional numbness to become real.

With a push to hold himself to the giddy arousal Flint would be displaying Jazz tore off a shoulder panel and snapped his fingers to get Prowl to focus, at least physically.

"Hey Praxian," he purred, and held the panel up so Prowl could clearly see the Enforcer insignia still painted on it. "Isn't this from some dead city?"

Outrage flared bright, hot and very real as the Enforcer coding roared in rage and cracked the armor under the bindings in the effort to get free. Jazz had no doubt that if Prowl got free in this moment, he would try, not just to kill, but to maul him.

Jazz gave a pleased smirk. "Really? Over a picture?" He lifted a claw to it and _scraped_ down the symbol, scratching the finish. 

The Enforcer coding went ballistic and even Prowl was upset. Suddenly Prowl's systems went into a near-shutdown that directed the entire frame's energy into a single motion: getting one arm free.

Jazz jerked back, honestly frightened that Prowl was about to get free and strike, but after a frozen moment, realized that the bonds would hold and he started laughing. "Tell you what," he told the enraged, snarling creature. "Tell me where your bases are, I'll fix it and put it back."

Prowl sputtered in outraged refusal that only became more irate as the damage increased to his Enforcer emblem.

Jazz shrugged. "Your choice," he said, and started scratching at a small, focused area. The polish was good and the design well protected, but he would be able to scrape it away if he spent enough time at it. He planned to take that time; maybe by some miracle Prowl would be rescued without any help from him. In his spark, he reached out, trying to touch his mate. 

Prowl all but latched onto him, trembling and in shock from the impossible combination of Jazz destroying Prowl's insignia.

~Try to think of Flint,~ Jazz murmured. ~Flint is doing this to you, not me. The Decepticons. Focus on me, think of them.~ It was a selfish instruction, but he wanted his mate to be able to look at him when they were safe again. 

~Right. _That_ frame, that mech. You're....~ Prowl shared the image of Jazz as he normally looked, and the bond.

~That's me,~ Jazz said cheerfully. ~I'm right here with you.~ Claws reached paint with a piercing _scrape_ that made Prowl shake.

~Is this the kind of treatment that brings me intel?~ Prowl asked quietly.

~No. Not even in the shadows do Autobots interrogate like this,~ Jazz said. ~I don't want anyone thinking that torturing you like this will work. I'll tell you when you should give me something. This happens today, and then never again.~

Prowl sent a flash of understanding/thanks as paint flecked away. Jazz held the bond as open as possible while Prowl's grief soaked through, spilling from every part of him and filling Jazz with the intensity. By the time the insignia was halfway gone, Jazz understood what his mate was feeling much better and felt some honest relief. As emotionally agonizing as this was it was the same kind of pain as the loss of Praxus. While crippling in many ways it wasn't the kind of pain that would cause Prowl to crack. It fixated Prowl on Praxus, the destruction and loss. It made him angry, then numb and seemed to be well on the way to make him angry again.

Without a bit of doubt Jazz knew that Flint was about to land on the Autobot's most wanted list to be handed over to Whiplash with pointed instructions that he didn't exist. He didn't think Prowl had that in him, but he couldn't doubt it right now. There apparently were lines that once crossed not even Prowl viewed the law as relevant anymore.

When the symbol was no longer recognizable as what it had started out as, Jazz stopped, seemingly admiring his work. "Maybe I'll have the Decepticon insignia painted here," he hummed even as he carefully avoided reacting to the horror-outrage- _destroy you_ that roared up from Prowl that was clearly aimed at the speaker, not Jazz. "Hang it up for you to remember your betters." He looked at Prowl. "What do you think?" ~Tell me truthfully, would that be too much on you?~

Prowl snarled at 'Flint' with the kind of insane rage that was entirely too reminiscent of Sunstreaker. ~It'll keep me angry, focused. Not too much.~

On the edge of it, but as long as Prowl didn't have to stare at it for decaorns or metacycles on end, he could manage.

"I'm glad you agree," Jazz sing-songed. "This place could use a little brightening." ~If it gets too much, tell me. I'll walk you through what to do to justify it coming down. It's all in the behavior.~ "Next!" he announced out loud and moved on to the next shoulder plate, bringing his knife out to pry the piece up and off. 

~I will,~ Prowl promised and keened as he thrashed, both major sub-systems in Prowl fighting with everything they had to prevent it. ~This is draining reserves fast,~ Prowl passed on a message from the tac-net. ~They'll fight to shutdown,~ he added so Jazz understood the meaning.

~If you don't mind, I'll push you to shutdown. Flint wouldn't know, it'll give you some time to rest.~

~All right,~ Prowl agreed to it and pulled away from the two AI's a bit more with the message not to give up.

Jazz kept a careful teek on what the guards would feel, so as to avoid any possibility that they could report to Soundwave that he'd let their prisoner crash offline, but Prowl did a wonderful job of keeping the stress subdued from his field.

~I love you,~ Jazz murmured as he felt his mate's grip on reality starting to falter. 

~Love you, Jazz,~ Prowl replied as he sank further from reality and welcomed the automatic shutdown.

Jazz stayed with him until his awareness slipped fully away, then jerked back with a snarl as Prowl's frame went limp. He tried plugging in to force a rapid start-up, but even if he'd actually been trying, the processors had crashed and wouldn't start. "Frag," he growled, and struck Prowl across the face, making the wounds there start to bleed fresh. "Don't touch this mess," he snapped to the guards as he got up and snatched a cloth to clean his claws with, then stormed out. 

* * *

Jazz looked over the shredded tire he was preparing to drop, checking carefully for any signs that might lead someone to believe it was anything other than what he wanted them to: that it was junk.

It wasn't hard for him to get frame pieces here, and not at all suspicious for him to be seen with a tattered one. Flint had a thing for trophies and among the full-time interrogators it was a common kink. A microchip was carefully tucked away inside the tread of the tire, with enough information to let his Ops team back with the Autobots know what was going on and what he needed, while _hopefully_ not leading directly back to him. 

He stuffed it into subspace, checked himself in the polished metal that passed for a mirror and headed out. He was ready for the drop on the way to party for a bit at one of Flint's favored clubs. Fortunately it was the kind of party that Jazz grooved on too. A loud dance beat, lots of gyrating frames and an easy overload or three around the cheap high grade. He was almost looking forward to it, in a way. He needed to clear his mind and get himself centered and detached again. This was work. Getting Prowl back was the mission, not because he was the love of Jazz's life, but because Prowl was crucial to the Autobots.

He noticed some of the guards watching him for a few moments too long as he left. This wasn't one of Flint's normal off-base joors, but Jazz had done some favor swapping to get the leave. If anyone asked, it would hold up and so would the reasoning. It might not be the best reasoning, but needing to settle himself because his subject was infuriating was valid.

A bit of a drive later to take him outside the base's security patrols and along a dark ally. The transformation, toss and transformation back to his wheels were almost invisible but for the sound and Jazz was on his way again to a few very enjoyable joors.

~Gonna shut you out for a while,~ he told his mate. ~Need to concentrate without you in my head.~ He brushed over an apology. He wanted to spend as much time open to Prowl as he could; it would help him survive what he still had to go through. 

~Understood. Take care,~ Prowl responded with a wash of love and gentle closing of the bond. It would take nothing to breach Prowl's shield, so it was an act of respect more than practical use.

Jazz sighed, then shook himself and got into the right mental space. It had been a _long_ time since he'd gone under without a construct in place, and this would be a good test of how well he could slip into an assumed role. He wasn't worried, it was an easy environment, but he still needed to be paying attention. _Especially_ since there might be mecha here who'd met Flint.

He rolled up and transformed in front of the club and walked past the bouncer with barely a nod. In this Decepticon centric city with its large Decepticon base, the Decepticon brand worked to get him inside almost anywhere without a cover. It worked much the way his Autobot brand got him past many a bouncer or guard in Autobot dominated cities. The booming music and flashing lights assaulted him immediately, followed shortly by the scent of ozone and the heavy teek of arousal. He revved his engines and stretched his arms out with a purr. As undercover went, this was really the way to do it.

Without another thought he collected a cube of high grade, one that was more flavor than charge to be honest, and began to cruse. Being seen was important, remembered even more so. A pair of shiny minibots caught his optics, sitting together at the bar, and one of them grinned and waved. They both wore visors, a big plus for Jazz. He smirked in their direction, swaying his hips a bit as he walked.

"Hey there, hot stuff," a familiar voice purred from just far enough away to not get swatted on reflex.

Jazz paused, rifling through files until he matched the voice up with the right memory. One of Flint's frequent 'faces. Hacking interface, usually, someone Flint was very fond of. As fond as the Decepticon interrogator ever really got. Brushing him off would get Jazz noticed.

"Well hey there," he purred, turning away from the minibots to saunter over to the dark red and gray mech with a deep red visor.

Slasher. 

Jazz let out a small internal breath of relief at finally pulling up a designation.

"Not your usual night," Slasher purred and reached out to stroke a primary dataport on Jazz's chest.

"Not my usual mood, either," Jazz said, and put his hand on Slasher's wrist, pushing it down, guiding it to his pelvis. "Got a fraggin' glitch of a job right now." 

Slasher grinned and curled his fingers along the cover willingly. "I'll polish yours if you polish mine."

"I'm game," Jazz said, and put his hands on Slasher's hips, dancing them both back into the crowd, rocking their panels together. He looked in the direction of the minibots and flicked his visor in a wink at them, along with a grin that promised he'd be seeing them later.

* * *

~Whiplash will have assigned someone to monitor supply orders from that bar I went to last night,~ Jazz said as he walked back onto the base, frame sated and with plenty of witnesses who'd seen him doing it. ~I made a drop and sent out the signal that it's there. They'll know where you are, they'll be able to help.~

~Thank you,~ Prowl's relief nearly caused Jazz to miss a step and warned Jazz that Prowl was putting on a better front than he let on. ~How long do we need to continue the charade?~

~I don't know,~ Jazz murmured, pausing for a moment and putting his hand on the wall. ~It ... could be long. This isn't an easy place to get into.~

~Oh,~ Prowl tried to put on a strong front, but it didn't ring true within the bond. ~Then we manage for a long time, if we must.~

~We manage for as long as we must,~ Jazz said firmly. ~And that's all there is to it.~

~Agreed,~ Prowl put all that stubborn tenacity that had helped him survive this long into the statement.

~I'll continue with the plating removal next,~ Jazz said. ~It'll hurt more than last time. Not so emotional, though.~

~It would be difficult to be more emotional,~ Prowl admitted, even as he acknowledged it was possible. ~Will you rest before you come back?~

~Yeah,~ Jazz said. ~If you need some time to get used to the idea. Whatever you need, love.~

~Thank you, love you. Rest as well as you can. We need your wits intact,~ Prowl insisted.

* * *

In what was becoming a routine, Prowl was faking unconsciousness when Jazz arrived. Even if Jazz hadn't told him so Prowl would be ready; Jazz knew all the tiny signs that showed whether a mecha was really out cold or not. He snorted as he got closer. "Gonna hafta try harder than that," he said, rapping his knuckles on Prowl's helm. 

Pale blue optics lit with a growl of annoyance that wasn't really faked. It just had more hate behind it than was true.

"Aw, did I disturb your rest?" Jazz cooed, then wrapped his claws under a torn and injured piece of plating and yanked up. 

Prowl's growl in response turned into a pained keen and stutter of his engine. ~Doing okay,~ he promised over the bond, though it was telling that he was already allocating significant control to his AIs.

Jazz pushed love over while he sneered. "Praxians are so vain," he said, and tore further at the armor, sinking claws into dense pockets of wiring as Prowl screamed and gasped in a vain effort to keep his ventilations stable. "When what are you, really? Flightless seekers, too stupid to even fly with your wings. Why should you keep them?"

Real fear surged through the bond with a panicked attempt to explain the insanity that came with lost wings. Overlaid were the scramble of the AIs to prepare to shield the sensory net processors to cope with the lack.

~Pain better than loss,~ Prowl finally managed words.

~I won't take them, I won't,~ Jazz soothed and Prowl's spark instantly relaxed with trust in the speaker while the frame continued its display. ~I promise. Flint wouldn't either, but he would threaten you with them. Both of us know what that would do to you and Flint would need you to be _somewhat_ intact when he delivers you to Soundwave. Soundwave assigned us as the warm-up, not the heavy-hitter.~

~Glad you both know what it does,~ Prowl finished relaxing internally. ~He learned on fliers, or just a known thing?~

~He's experienced,~ Jazz said. ~My constructs get a lot of my working knowledge. Gonna hurt.~ He wrenched up a bigger piece of plating. The bond whited out briefly from the pain the AIs couldn't completely contain and left Prowl's spark shaking but determined to hold steady. Prowl's frame screamed and cracked armor in the effort to escape that wasn't possible. Among the waves of pain were sharp sparks of panic; exactly where Prowl should be.

~That's really good,~ Jazz murmured, continuing to yank at the stubborn piece, having to brace himself and get his weight behind it. Each jerk upwards brought a fresh, sobbing scream from Prowl and Jazz muted his audials before he lost his resolve to continue. ~I'm sorry,~ he whispered, not even sure if Prowl could understand him. 

A disoriented response of support replied, though it wasn't much. What it did mean for Jazz was that his mate was in shock and not feeling this nearly as much as he might. 

A small mercy. Jazz kept up on the wing's heavier plating until he'd managed to wrench away nearly half of the armor. Prowl lost consciousness at that point and Jazz wiped his hand across his forehelm as he looked down at the maimed body of his mate. 

Flint grinned. 

* * *

~You should tell me something today,~ Jazz said before he opened the door. He didn't even look at Prowl, just smirked to himself as he sauntered over to the wall of tools. ~Hold out as long as you can before you do, but it'll stop when you do.~ He reached up to finger a piece that resembled a blowtorch. 

~All right,~ Prowl responded nervously as he made the changes to keep the AIs from taking over so he could last as long as his frame could.

Jazz tried to ignore the feeling of a knot forming in his cables and selected the tool, which was hooked up to a tube that ran up through the ceiling. ~This is connected to a supply of liquid nitrogen,~ he said, keeping his back to Prowl, the guard, and the cameras while he made a show of examining and feeling out the device. 

Prowl's spark knotted in on itself as he realized he was about to face one of the primordial fears of their race. ~I understand.~

Jazz turned around, an unhinged-looking grin on his face. "Let's try something new," he said, and held his choice over Prowl's hand, and a single drop started to form at the end, steaming. The drop fell and hit Prowl's armor. There was an impossibly long nanoklik before the information registered for Prowl, and he somehow managed to keep from reacting before he should, but when he did the gasp and effort to escape was honest, as was the pain-panic in his field.

~It's hot,~ Jazz said. ~A hot oil pool, seeping under your armor, it's you and me.~ The next drop hit and Jazz forced a delighted flutter of his armor at the way Prowl seized and jerked in vain to escape the freezing liquid. ~When you feel it's right, start to beg me to stop.~

Prowl's spark latched onto that idea and even did some on the fly coding edits to make it more real. He kept the sensation of pain intact, but flipped the sensory signal to read hot. It would give the right responses but keep his panic at a minimum.

~You're so talented,~ Jazz praised his mate while holding the trigger down for a few more moments. A steady stream dripped onto Prowl's hand, the armor began to ping and fracture. "Well that's fun," he purred. "Wonder what happens if I put this somewhere more ... _sensitive._ " He swung into a straddle on the table and held the nozzle over Prowl's spark, letting a single drop fall.

The reflexive buck actually did knock Jazz off and Prowl's screech was genuine, though the bond was far calmer than the frame. He didn't like that one bit, but he could take it.

"Slagger," Jazz growled as he got up to his pedes. He looked down at his thigh where some of the nitrogen had spilled on him, then back up at Prowl, then punched him across the jaw. "Hold still," he said and held the nozzle right over the seam and let a steady stream fall as he counted in his head.

This was far too restrained for what Flint would be in this moment.

Jazz hated himself. _He hated himself._

The stream stopped and Jazz waited a moment, then slammed his fist down onto the damaged armor. Prowl gasped as error messages flowed across his HUD and cringed back against the table in a desperate effort to lessen the impact. He trusted Jazz, but he was still genuinely afraid.

"Pretty," Jazz said with a grin, reaching in with claws to delicately pick at the pieces of shattered armor. "A few more of those and we could find out today what _actually_ happens when this stuff touches a crystal. I've never seen it myself." He hummed, then reached out and pressed the nozzle to Prowl's pede, squeezing.

It seeped under Prowl's armor, cracking the plating. Prowl jerked back, every bit of him looking the desperate, terrified panic that he should. Jazz kept the bond open, tried to keep him calm, but knew that too much would distort the physical response. "Tell you what," he said. "We'll work up from here. You have until I reach your spark to tell me something useful." 

Prowl spat out static that was an extended curse according to his field. The fascinating part for Jazz, both as Prowl's lover and an interrogator himself, was that despite the defiance, Prowl was bound by coding to obey two completely contradictory demands. One set of core coding demanded he never give anything up, that his functioning was not worth betraying his master. The other demanded he give up something to survive because his tac-net and knowledge was too important to the cause.

The struggle was real and clear in Prowl's field as Jazz worked his way up, freezing and cracking armor as he went. When he reached Prowl's knee Prowl was sobbing as Jazz asked him for information once more, that sweet, seductive voice promising the slow drip of the hot ice would end with just a little thing. Trembling, Prowl sent a burst of _it's okay_ over the bond. "Please," his vocalizer crackled with static, the mechanism almost ruined.

"You know how to make it all stop," Jazz crooned, and pressed his thumb against the brittle armor over Prowl's knee, pressing down, making it crinkle.

Prowl shuddered and swallowed a sob before giving up the route of a supply line from Iacon to Polyhex.

~Believable?~ Prowl asked across a bond that was quivering unsteadily but still holding strong.

~Perfect, love,~ Jazz said as he lifted the tool away and immediately took his hands off Prowl's frame. "Go check that," he told the guard, and hung the tool up, then leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest, grinning at Prowl. "We'll wait. You better hope it's useful."

Prowl allowed himself to sag in relief at the temporary reprieve. ~Any news on a rescue?~

~Nothing yet. I'm sorry,~ Jazz said. ~They'll come. If I don't hear anything in--if it takes too long I'll attempt another contact.~

~We are in Simfur. Once I went missing this city and base would be the most likely place for me to be taken before the detention center,~ Prowl tried to reassure them both. ~I'm too important to the war to not be searched for.~

~For which I am eternally grateful,~ Jazz said, examining his claws before bringing them up to his mouth to lick, giving Prowl a predatory grin. 

Prowl responded with disgust on his ruined facial features and hunger in his spark. ~There is something distinctly wrong with _wanting_ you so much when I'm this mangled.~

~You're in pain. You want your mate,~ Jazz said with gentle assurance that it wasn't as wrong as Prowl might think. ~Think you could put up enough of a show of not wanting me? Flint would celebrate here.~

~Yes, though I can't promise not to overload eventually. We both know what you do to me,~ Prowl purred even as be began to disable some of the hacks he'd produced to keep the worst of the pain at bay. Under that sense was a deeper longing for a merge, something Prowl didn't yet dare to suggest.

~I'll try to make sure you don't,~ Jazz said. ~Wouldn't look very good. If you do, it should look forced. If you look like you're enjoying yourself I'll have to hurt you.~

The door opened and Jazz looked up, then nodded as he got the signal that the intel was good. He waved his hand in answer, then purred as he looked at Prowl. Prowl managed to look both disgusted and afraid, but his spark was steady and his frame ready.

~I understand,~ Prowl accepted the disappointment without complaint.

~Not the right place for it, lover,~ Jazz said, stalking forward with eager revs. ~Head in the game. Everything's the mission.~ He trailed his claws up Prowl's thigh. "You've just made me _very_ happy," he purred. 

"Then something to make _me_ happy?" Prowl tried to negotiate and cringed inwards at how terrible it sounded. He was further out of it than he thought. That needed to be addressed when he got home, once he had his processors back in order.

"And what would make you happy?" Jazz asked with an indulgent chuckle. 

Prowl actually paused, thrown off by not being taunted or chided. His processors were definitely suf... How did he get that low and not notice?

"Energon to drink, and secrin if you have it." Prowl kept a wary optic on Jazz. ~I actually need the energon, and the secrin is used by my systems for repair.~

Jazz let out a laugh. "Secrin, huh? You a secret addict or something? Sure, why not, let's get some secrin for the mech. Might make him more entertaining for me later. And a cube of high grade. This is a celebration."

"Never thought it was a secret," Prowl huffed. "Just part of the rations in Praxus."

~Love, are you seriously okay? You don't sound rational,~ Jazz asked even as a guard disappeared to fetch the desired items.

~I'm likely not. Energy levels and damage are shutting down things in a weird order,~ Prowl focused on the bond, causing what was left of his optics to unfocus completely.

Jazz spent the time waiting for the energon and secrin trying to work himself up to the task, running his claws up and down his mate's frame, dipping teasingly inside his thighs. Prowl did his level best not to be revved up by the touching, and though the pain helped a fair amount it didn't still his spark's desire for Jazz.

Jazz cycled his vents. ~What hasn't shut down yet?~

~Central processor, most tactile systems above the knee, legal processor, about half my memory banks, core functions,~ Prowl replied.

Jazz kept his sigh internal. Not everything, but too much to consent in any way. He could force his spike to extend, physically interface with Prowl, but he didn't know if he'd be able to do it convincingly.

A moment later he wondered what kind of twisted monster he was that he could convincingly torture his mate, then he shoved the thought away.

He hesitated, then as the door opened behind him and he knew what would be expected, made his decision and started rapid coding of recent memories and plans, all for the construct to come online to. With a grin that was flawless Flint, Jazz took both cubes of high grade and the pack of secrin, then dissolved the chemical into one of the cubes.

~What's wrong?~ Prowl asked as something got his attention from Jazz's debate.

~Nothing, babe,~ Jazz said. ~We'll get through this.~ He grabbed Prowl's jaw and wrenched his helm to the side, the started trying to pry his mouth open. "Get me a funnel," he told the guard who'd brought the cubes. "To your left, hanging." 

The object was quickly handed to him even as Prowl jerked in surprise at the unannounced move, then chided himself for not seeing it coming. The drugged high grade was poured down, leaving him dizzy and with even more cognitive functions shut down to focus on processing the badly needed energon.

Jazz kept the funnel lodged into Prowl's mouth and reached for the second cube. "You like that?" he purred, and started to tip the second one in. ~I'm going dark,~ he said, hoping Prowl would understand. ~I'm still in control. I won't let him hurt you worse than I would.~

~Okay,~ Prowl responded even though it took most of his remaining coordination to ensure no energon was wasted. ~I trust you,~ he added before trying to block his side of the bond, such as he could.

"Gorgeous," Flint said, falling right into place where Jazz wanted him, and finally tossed the funnel aside. Prowl's field was unsteady with charge, frame shaking with the sudden influx. A trickle of energon ran down his jaw and Flint leaned in, licking it up. "Do you have any idea how hot you just made me?" He reached down to his emerging spike and started to rub. 

"Cn teek't," Prowl's voice was slurred on top of crackling from vocalizer damage. He was far too out of it to be more than dimly aware of what was coming, though he was aware enough to be slightly disturbed, just without understanding why.

"Oh, I'm gonna use you up," Flint said, and climbed over Prowl. His legs were tied far enough apart to easily grope his valve cover. "Needy thing like you. Begging to be covered with fluid." 

Prowl did follow that enough to spit out a slur of static that while of indeterminate glyphs, was clear enough in intent: go frag yourself on dry ice spike.

Claws scraped against the cover. "With you so charged, too," he said. "I thought I'd hear you begging."

"Not for you," Prowl enunciated fairly clearly this time and refused to open the cover. Defiance flared up in even line of his battered frame, but he was fooling no one, not even the guard. When claws dug in enough to generate pain, the valve cover slid open with little more than a growl of frustration from Prowl.

"Really now," Flint hummed. "So who's it for?" he asked sweetly, as he rammed his claws in, scraping the lining.

Pain lashed up through Prowl's frame enough to scramble his logic trees for a moment, leaving him dazed and answering a different question. "Lord Prime." It was almost perfectly clear, no way to mistake the title for anything else.

That made Flint actually pause as he peered at the Praxian who was so clearly not running to full capacity. "That would be interesting," he finally said. "We'll talk more on that later." He retracted his claws and rubbed the damaged lining, scissoring his fingers. When he had Prowl's unfocused gaze, he pulled his hand back and shifted his hips back. "Good intel gets you rewards, you know," he purred, pushing his spike into Prowl. 

It hurt, though not as much as it could. Prowl wasn't slick, but the lining had relaxed from the attention. Deep in frame memory his valve relaxed around the intruder it knew and loved so well. Lubricant was pushed through the lining to slicken the passage and the contact drew a moan of mixed signals from Prowl.

"Eager," Flint grunted as he started to rock. Jazz watched the construct carefully, concerned by the small amount of gentleness that it had shown. Just like when he'd first seen Prowl, Flint was oddly taken by him, and it was softening him. Jazz directed the gaze to Prowl's mouth, then tugged at the memory of Prowl biting him and the anger it had caused. That was enough to spur the anger again, but instead of doing damage to Prowl's largely ruined face he tapped his claws on Prowl's spike cover and pulled back his hips. The squeeze of that nearly dry valve around him was intoxication. To have the spike cover of his toy respond to him was even more so.

He giggled gleefully and stroked it, loving the way it made the Praxian's entire frame twitch. "You like me that much?" he taunted. 

"N...no," Prowl shook at the input caused his spike to extend for the same reason his valve had begun to lubricate.

"You're a twisted mech," Flint said, and rubbed his thumb over the tip. "Someone back at home do this to you?" 

Prowl giggled. He actually giggled. Yet it was not in humor and Flint knew it. It was the unhinged sound of a mech who'd had a critical break with reality.

Flint smirked. He liked finding his assignments' limits and seeing what it took to break them. He'd thought this one would last longer. He rubbed again, rocked his hips, then sank his claws into the spike tip. 

Prowl's half-off optics flared white in shock and his damaged vocalizer spit static until it screeched and broke. Inside him Flint's spike was treated to an unnatural tightness that drew a shaking moan of bliss from him.

Not _too_ broken, at least, he thought to himself, and dragged his claws through the thin plating, fantasizing about what Prowl's Autobot lovers might have done in this very position. The image of bliss on Prowl's face made him shudder, and he started to fantasize about Prowl _wanting_ the pain he was giving him. His personal toy. He was going to deeply regret when Soundwave took this prisoner from him. It would be well worth the favors to keep him and train him, if he'd been a normal POW. Even a normal officer POW Flint could probably swing. Since that wasn't an option, the only one was to enjoy him as much as he could while he had him.

It didn't take him long to overload, watching Prowl's optics flicker with pain and confusion. He slumped forward when it was over and panted there for a moment, then looked down at his hand, claws piercing all the way through Prowl's spike. Energon oozed from the punctures and even without a functional vocalizer Prowl was making small sobbing sounds.

Flint smirked and retracted both spike and claws, then lifted his fingers up to his mouth and slowly licked them off while Prowl watched. "How's the energon settling now?" he purred. 

Unfocused pale blue optics attempted to look at him, and the broken vocalizer clicked a couple times before Prowl gave up and began to cycle into repair recharge. Flint smirked even more and Jazz quietly seethed. Flint swung off, still licking his fingers. "Don't repair him," he said. "I want to see what he can do on his own." 

The guard nodded his understanding.

"Oh, and help yourself, if you'd like," Flint said, glancing back at Prowl. "Spread the word. But anyone who actually hurts him will answer to me, understood?"

The guard glanced at him, then at Prowl, then nodded.

"Good mech," Flint said, clapping him on the shoulder before heading out, pondering on what he would do next. A good romp in the rec room could be fun, or maybe the washracks. Or recharge, he could use a good recharge. Strange that he felt so tired, normally he'd be revved up right now. Oh well, recharge would be good. He'd have good dreams of this twisted Praxian. The thought caused him to head to his quarters humming. He was rounding the corner into his hall when everything shimmered strangely and a hand wrapped around his arm, pulling him into a doorway.

"Hey, what--" Flint focused, paused, then his optics spiraled wide when he saw the face of the Autobot spy. He struck out with one hand, grabbing for his subspaced blaster with the other. 

The Autobot cursed sharply but quietly and knocked Flint's pedes out from under him with a sweep the brought them both down. Faster than Flint could track, and he should have been able to but his processors were sluggish for some reason, the spy was plugged into him. He grabbed for a host of viruses and traps to hurl at the invader, but felt them slipping away from him even as he tried to activate the deadliest. The spy wasn't alone, there was another with him, both of them working together to take him down--

His consciousness shattered and Flint had a moment to feel himself being picked apart, and the hold on his vocalizer prevented him from calling out to alert someone of the intruders. In what he realized were likely his last moments, he gathered all his remaining strength and lashed out at the hacker before everything went black.

"Slag--" Jazz muttered, focusing his optics. ~Are you okay?~

~Yes. I am glad you are on the Autobot side,~ Mirage answered calmly with only a faint echo of how much the last assault had left him aching. ~Why was he in charge?~

Jazz x-vented. ~Didn't want to risk cover by not being convincing enough. Tell me you're here with a way to get him out.~

Mirage lifted an optic ridge at the idea that Jazz might not be _convincing_. ~I'm here to get Prowl out. How much of a distraction can you create without risking your cover? I can deal with the guards on him and get him out as long as no one raises an alarm right away.~

~I can create one,~ Jazz said. ~Don't worry about that. It'll be better if I can have an orn to get everything set up.~

~If we can afford an orn, I can give it,~ Mirage was more than a little concerned.

Jazz nudged Mirage to move off of him and sat up, pressing his energon-sticky fingers to the connection points of his visor. ~We have an orn, Prowl's stronger than he looks. Let me think a klik. He could get out today, but I'd risk my cover providing that distraction. It's already shaky enough if Soundwave takes interest. Which he _will_ if Prowl gets out. I could leave with you two, but I'd lose all this progress.~

~All right. When should I be in place in the interrogation room's hall?~ Mirage accepted Jazz's statement.

~One orn from now. Actually, one orn from one joor from now. I need a nap and then I'll start working.~

~I'll be there, and you won't see me,~ Mirage promised. ~What condition is he in?~

~He wasn't good when I left him,~ Jazz said. ~He got some sectin and I'll get some more high grade in him. He should recognize you and be able to move. He'll know what's coming. You'll have to help him move.~

~Understood. I will be ready, as will the medic waiting for us,~ Mirage said.

~Good. Now go get scarce,~ Jazz said, and unplugged before slipping out of Mirage's disruptor field and continuing on his way like nothing had happened, humming and licking at his fingertips. 

* * *

Jazz spent most of the next orn pretending to hook up with various mecha in the rec room, then slipping away with them and forcing them into stasis and implanting memories of a fantastic 'face before using the time to wire a series of security alerts into the base's system. He wanted to make absolute sure everyone was good and distracted while Mirage was getting his mate free. Now it was time for his last view of his mate until the mission was over, and possibly forever. He couldn't blame Prowl if he never got over it.

With a heavy spark he made his way to the room Prowl was held in and wasn't sure whether to be glad or sad that Prowl was deep in recharge. He leaned in the doorway for a moment, forcing a smirk, then pulled a baton from his subspace and walked forward. He lifted it high, then swung with his full strength, hitting the bottom of Prowl's left pede tire. 

The shock flashed Prowl's optics on, not that they really worked anymore, to feed data into his processors as soon as they booted. The ruined vocalizer tried to boot but could only click, but it was the bond that flashed to life first. Not a word or thought, simply seeking if its mate was close.

~I'm here,~ Jazz said. Should he tell Prowl that relief was close? Would his response be noticeable?

Soundwave would be pouring over every nanoklik of footage in the coming orns, looking for any tells from Prowl.

Jazz swung and hit again, drawing a frame-cry of pained objection. ~You need to tell me something this session. Hold out as long as you can.~

Prowl fixated on the bond while allowing his frame to finish booting in the chaotic pattern that the assault and damage was causing. ~How? Hands and wings bound and broken, vocalizer broken, comms out.~

~I'll get your vocalizer functioning again,~ Jazz said. He walked around, striking at the left shoulder tire next. ~Don't worry about that. I didn't realize it was that damaged.~

~All right,~ Prowl's spark and still-foggy processors relaxed even as his frame objected to the treatment as best he could.

"Miss me?" Jazz purred before hitting the right shoulder tire. "We had so much fun last time." ~Demonstrate the damage,~ he instructed. 

Prowl shook his head and his vocalizer sputtered, clicked and crackled in frustration.

Jazz started to swing, then paused, then lowered his arm and looked at Prowl. "Come again?"

Prowl looked back, then shrank away when Jazz lifted his arm again.

"Well that's useless. Get someone in here to fix that," Jazz told the guards. He huffed at the wait, but didn't complain to the medic when the overworked and universally feared mech stalked in.

"How much?" Deadlift grumbled at Jazz.

"Just the vocalizer. Not much good interrogating'm if he can't talk," Jazz shrugged and stayed back. ~Sorry, I doubt he'll numb it.~

~This isn't half as bad as other repairs,~ Prowl insisted, though the quivering of pain and distress said it was a near thing.

Jazz's spark twisted strangely. He hadn't even thought about that. He tapped his pede as he watched the medic working, and made sure he kept smirking at Prowl. After a few kliks, he licked his lips and held one finger up, forming a circle, then poked another finger through it as he grinned at Prowl. 

It had the desired effect of distracting Prowl, at least partially. Processors like his couldn't be distracted completely in such a sparse environment. The snarl was genuine, though so was his effort to hold still for the medic.

"Aww," Jazz said. "It _likes_ me!"

Deadlift snorted. "You're a twisted fragger, you know?"

"No more than you, friend," Jazz said.

Deadlift grunted and stood.

"All better?"

"All better." Deadlift grabbed a dented chevron spike and twisted. "Talk for the mech." 

Prowl yelped, more startled than pain despite that it did hurt. "Frag yourself," he snarled at Jazz in a moment full defiance.

"There's my Praxian!" Jazz said delightedly. "So, like I said--" He swung at the shoulder tire again. "Miss me?" 

"Like a rust spot," Prowl spat as Deadlift left.

"Got some spirit back in you," Jazz chuckled with another hit. "Wanna tell me something else today? Stop all this before it even starts? We both know you'll get there."

Prowl actually stuck his glossa out at Jazz, but the bond questioned how hard he should fight.

~Gotta fight, love,~ Jazz said. He hit his love again and tried to hold onto the fact that this was the last time. "C'mon," he purred and leaned in a bit. "This time I'll be gentle, promise." 

Prowl spit oral lubricant mixed with congealed processed energon in his face.

"Ugh!" Jazz recoiled, wiping at his face. "A _lot_ of spirit, apparently. Good. Makes the take down better." He reached into his subspace and pulled out a shock stick and shoved it into one of the open wounds on Prowl's chest, kicking it to high. Prowl predictably arched within his bonds and screamed a crackling series of unintelligible clicks, but the bond let Jazz in on the fact that this was by far the least stressful thing he could do. All the protections build into Prowl for the tac-net ensured that the charge didn't really hurt him much.

~Can't stay here for too long,~ Jazz murmured regretfully, but he pulsed over his promise that they would spend more time with the shock this session. As he opened up the bond and turned up the charge, he felt Prowl shrink away from him.

~I know,~ Prowl pulsed his thanks for the reprieve, no matter how long it lasted. ~Do what you need to. I'll manage until I can't.~

~I know you will,~ Jazz said, and slammed the baton into Prowl's neck.

He whittled away as much time as he could on that before he knew it would look suspicious, and then he went back for the liquid nitrogen gun. "Remember this? This is my favorite," he said with a purr. The sharp spike of remembered pain and fear in Prowl's field was completely real, yet so was the determination to last longer.

"It's the only thing that got you intel last time," Prowl pointed out reasonably.

"I know, I'm so predictable," Jazz said with a sigh, and let a drop fall onto Prowl's chest, right over his spark chamber. "And you're _spunky_ today, I like it." 

The Praxian shuddered and tried to pull away from that dangerous cold even as he snarled his defiance at his tormentor. "Let me loose and I'll show you spunky," he dared in a genuine threat to Jazz's well being.

"You'd regret that," Jazz said with a grin, and swung up onto the table, straddling Prowl's thighs. He let another drop fall, right next to the first. "How long do you think you'd last against me in your state?"

"Long enough to send you to that medic," Prowl snarled in pain as well as defiance. Jazz had to admire the way he could bounce back from broken to angry. How well he'd hold up against a real interrogation was still up for debate, but his mate had determination and fire to spare.

"I'd believe that," Jazz said. He moved a little lower on Prowl's frame, a drop falling on his abdomen. "Just tell me something. Then I'll make it all up to you." He shifted his frame a little, rocking over Prowl's spike cover. 

Prowl stared at him dumbly, the confusion over the practical aspect of getting hard when he was this damage stopping his processors momentarily. He scowled a moment later. "As if I'd want you as a reward."

The bond said something else entirely. It was _tempting_ , but only because it was Jazz in the frame above him. Arousal trickled there, though Prowl's frame was too damaged to act on it willingly.

"We could just save time and combine the two," Jazz purred, and moved back far enough that his fingers could splay over the spike cover. A single drop fell between them. "How would you like this stuffed inside you?"

Prowl's optics flared in a disbelieving horror and the tremor that ran through his frame was absolutely real. "Only if you join in," he actually dared after a moment to collect his wits.

"I'm not a masochist," Jazz said simply. "Let's get you warmed up to the idea for a while. Or cooled down?" He chuckled to himself and let another drop fall on the spike cover. "I'm sure you have some interesting tales to tell, and I always make time for those." 

Prowl gritted his denta against the scream that drop torn from him. "What kind of tale?" he relented as he found his vocal protocols again.

"Key Autobot figures and where they're located, how to take them down," Jazz said.

Prowl snarled, but his defiance broke when the next drop of liquid ice landed on his spike housing with a white-optic scream of thought-shattering agony. Jazz waited as Prowl gasped, panted and gathered enough processor power to respond. "Prime, Iacon, teach Megatron to aim," he whispered weakly.

Jazz paused, then chuckled. "Fair enough," he said, sliding off Prowl. "We'll try again tomorrow." He hung the tool up. ~Try not to react. Mirage is in here. He's taking you away.~

Prowl's slump of relief was carefully regulated to only be as much as he'd given the session before when it had ended. ~Finally. Thank you, my love. Bond meeting at the usual time?~

Jazz was silent as he wiped off his shock stick, then started on his fingers. Prowl wanted to now, but there was no saying that feeling Jazz in his spark later wouldn't just make him relive all of this. ~Not yet,~ he said. ~I'm switching back to traditional communication for a while, it's been planned with Ops.~

The echo of Prowl's spark being crushed couldn't have been hidden even if Prowl was in perfect shape and with his wits fully intact. Despite that, the muted acceptance was clear. 

Jazz had to work not to run out of the room. Whiplash wanted Prowl to have some space, _Jazz_ needed space. He muted the bond from his end and walked out, grinning and licking his fingers as he headed towards the bar. He pressed a detonator hidden in his subspace.

Micro-explosives on timers all started to tick, hidden deep within wiring, so small that they would look like natural corruption. They would start off the base's alarms, though, and they would easily create enough of a distraction to get Prowl free. 

* * *

Prowl slumped down a little after Jazz left, cycling through his normal shutdown to pass as much of the time between sessions in a haze as possible. He was nearly offline when he heard alarms starting to go off. His cracked optics powered on and he watched through glitching visual feeds as the shapes of the guards standing inside the cell both dropped, then a light blue shape shimmered into visibility. 

"I can walk," Prowl told him, not even sure where the glyphs came from other than feeling the need to speak that specific phrase.

"You're coming with me whether or not you can walk," Mirage informed him as he started to pick the locks holding Prowl to the table. "You did well in here." 

"Thank you," Prowl's voice was shaking as he began to process getting _out_ as a reality and he took stock of his frame and condition. If he hadn't been an Enforcer first and foremost, he'd already be insane from the damage to his wings. He'd be off balance and every step would be rich in pain, but Jazz had largely left his legs functional, though transformation was out of the question. "I doubt I can drive," he gave Mirage fair warning even as he went to work on his left arm restraints the moment his right arm and doorwing were free.

"Drink first." Mirage said firmly, the situation giving him authority as he pushed a cube of high grade into Prowl's free hand. When Prowl complied Mirage went to work on his pedes. "Alt mode is not important," Mirage said. "We're prepared to get you back even if you're offline. Here--" He plugged into Prowl's chest and sent over a datapack, all while still working to free the Praxian. It wasn't lost on him just how startled both AIs seemed to be that he had medic credentials. "This is our timeline. Flexible, but there are points we _must_ hit." 

Prowl finished the cube and went to work on freeing his left side. As soon as it was freed he sat up.

Everything spun.

"Careful, now," Mirage said, immediately there to support him. 

"Schedule incorporated," Prowl responded softly, his voice a touch off. He willingly accepting the assistance he needed as the universe spun and protocols long suppressed surged to the fore and scrambled his perceptions. The tac-net and AI dominated to spare the spark and mech they supported the pain they all knew was coming. The schedule was focal. Mirage, no matter his looks, was the leader. Sensory systems were blocked, hacked, rerouted as needed. "Enforcer protocols dominant," he warned Mirage, even though it didn't mean much to the noble-turned SpecOps spy as they focused on getting Prowl's pedes free. "Weapon?" he asked as he stood, wobbly and in pain but able to move on his own.

"Standard issue," Mirage said, pressing a blaster into his hands. "Should clear anything that might get in our way, not expecting much trouble. Keep your hands on my shoulders, move as I do, stay close and you'll be in my disruptor field." Mirage pulled a small cube from subspace and downed it, then shuddered as charge flooded him. Prowl immediately caught the scent of jet high grade. "Ready?"

"Yes," Prowl answered firmly, his hands where instructed, his field pulled tight but meshed enough with Mirage's so the spy would know if he began to falter. 

"Good. Let's go," Mirage said, and his field came online, enveloping them both. Mirage took an experimental step, testing Prowl's balance. It was nothing like a healthy mech, but he had to give credit to Prowl for barely flinching when matching the movement sent a flash of pain into systems that still felt, even if most pain was blocked.

"Not bad," Mirage said, encouraging in a subtle way that he knew worked well on Prowl. They reached the door, which opened to Mirage's palm. The spy's voice lowered as they made their way into the hallway. "This is going to be long, and slow," he murmured. "Tell me if you need to stop. I can carry you out if I have to." They hugged the wall and mecha rushed by. 

Prowl answered his understanding through their fields and devoted as much processor as he could to compensating for damage. At least he was well fueled. He'd be in medbay for metacycles, most likely, but he'd be able to do office work for much of that. With the part of him that fueled his will, Prowl focused on that and the eventual return to normal life.

It was slow going, just like Mirage had told him, but it was steady. Decepticons kept running past them, and a few times the power to the building flickered out. Mirage teeked far more comfortable in the dark, Prowl noticed, but he was confident in the light. He was exactly what Prowl needed to keep going as he was wondering whether he'd ever see his mate again. The danger of the mission aside, would Jazz ever be able to look at him again and not see these orns? With difficulty Prowl forced those thoughts away and focused on what he was doing. Step by step, each lash of pain focused him on the next and how it brought him closer to rest and repair. He had to mute his vocalizer and several vents were locked open, but they made it one step at a time.

Prowl had never in his existence been so grateful to see the sky when they finally slipped out of the building behind a couple Decepticons.

"An ambulance is waiting," Mirage said. "Another few blocks to go. And I'm sorry, but it's going to be pretty bumpy until we're out of Simfur." 

"I have survived Flint and the walk here. I will survive a bumpy ride," Prowl promised, his voice low and with limited harmonics, but the spark was strong in backing the statement up.

"I know you will," Mirage said. "Everyone's incredibly impressed with all you've done so far. You helped Jazz keep his cover, you survived to get out of there with important intel. Just another ten kliks." 

"What intel did I learn?" Prowl asked, both curious and willing to be distracted from his abused frame.

"You might not even know," Mirage said. "Even the most mundane things can help. Faces you saw, things you might have heard. Anything, even the smallest detail, is important. Focus on that."

"I will. Enforcer memory protocols have never been turned off. If I encountered it, I remember," Prowl accepted the instruction and used that to pass the time. He allowed himself a grateful sound when he was laid down in the ambulance on his front and finally the pressure was off his mangled doorwings.

The ambulance started rolling, slow and quiet. Hands were on Prowl and his primary medical port was plugged into. Smaller hands were under him next, going into a chest port.

~Well done,~ Whiplash said. ~This won't be quite as bad as a normal extraction for you, since Jazz wouldn't have planted anything nasty, but I'm still running full scans.~

The tac-net growled at him and retreated into its domain, but the Enforcer AI was more agreeable and so was Prowl. ~It was created to defend itself at all costs,~ Prowl warned him quietly. ~Not even Jazz is allowed.~

~Don't worry, I know all about that piece of code,~ Whiplash said. ~Even if I misstep and rile it, I have enough protection on myself and can get out of here fast enough. Shouldn't bother it, though. In its interests to know that you're clean and sane, anyway.~

Prowl gave a mental hum of acceptance and tried to relax.


	5. Rebuilding Trust

Jazz was once more grateful for being owed favors and generally regarded as a Decepticon worth giving information to on spec. No less than three Decepticons, one of them a low-ranked Seeker, had whispered as they passed that Soundwave was going to arrive that evening after fueling.

Without the warning, he would have likely panicked upon seeing the iconic red visor. Yes, he knew Soundwave would be pouring over the details of the escape, but Jazz hadn't expected him _on site._ Not after his prize prisoner was gone.

As it was, he was only half panicked and trying to put together some semblance of a personality for the telepath to interact with. Acting could fool almost anyone, but certainly not the renowned Decepticon interrogator _who just happened to be a powerful telepath!_ Primus below, Jazz was grateful for all the time Blaster had been willing to invest in teaching him how to hide and survive that kind of probing.

Coaxing Flint back into existence with full knowledge of what had happened without realizing that he hadn't been there for any of it was easily one of the most challenging things Jazz had ever had to do. Still, he had been given this assignment knowing that if he couldn't, no one could.

So when Soundwave walked down the ramp of his shuttle with no less than Skywarp and Razorclaw, Flint was in place and ready to be the innocent he was ... or break and disappear if that meant survival, which did come naturally for the construct.

The base commander was there to greet them, and though he managed to act suitably, it was debatable to both Flint and Jazz which of the three he was more afraid of. Soundwave wasn't here to collect data. A mech with his rank, status and battlefield credentials didn't need guards like the two he brought, and Skywarp was beyond useless for investigating but very good for catching runners. Razorclaw was the one that hunted the hidden and escaped.

No, it was without a doubt that the Seeker and Predacon commander were there to _hunt_ whoever Soundwave decided needed hunting. That the full collection of Cassetticons slipped from the shuttle unnoticed by most didn't help that opinion change at all.

"Flint: will immediately surrender any and all data pertaining to Autobot Prowl," Soundwave said, speaking to the interrogator first.

Flint inclined his helm and started making a collection. Jazz had fresh reason to be concerned, despite the work he'd put into this already. If Flint's memories didn't match the cameras _exactly_ they would both be in for some rough times.

Jazz didn't go through all the effort of freeing his mate only to never see him again, he reminded himself.

"Here," Flint handed a chip over and tried to play that Soundwave and the other two didn't intimidate him, but even Flint knew it didn't work. "Data on one side, opinions on the other."

"The data: will be reviewed," Soundwave said, taking the chip. "This facility: is under investigation pending further notice. Full cooperation: will be required by any asked. Flint: is expected to report in three joors." 

"Yes, sir," Flint responded, the display of force enough to garner his best manners. Even so, he did make the bold choice to ask, keeping the thought of _what should I bring_ rather than _do I need to run_ at the top of his thoughts. "Where and what for?"

"A temporary office: has been set up for my use adjacent to base command," Soundwave said. "Flint: will be reviewed for his interrogation methods and for subliminal signs he may have been witness to proceeding Prowl's escape. Flint: is the closest witness to Prowl available."

"I'll be there sir," Flint gave something of a salute and scooted off. Even if he wasn't in trouble, he had _no_ desire to stay around the freaky mecha.

* * *

When he arrived at the makeshift command later, Flint was no more enthusiastic about the idea of spending time with Soundwave than he had been before. He wondered absently at the blaster in his subspace and why he couldn't remember grabbing it, but it was probably just out of habit. Prisons weren't a good place to be unarmed. Truth be told, neither was the base or city beyond it.

The door opened when he pinged his presence and he was greeted with Soundwave reviewing scores of vid feeds. One of the symbiots turned on his shoulder to glare at Flint, but did nothing else. 

"Reporting as ordered," Flint managed not to sound snarky. Jazz didn't know whether to curse or cheer the construct's arrogance, but he was hoping it would be the thing to get them both through this meeting.

"Flint: will be seated," Soundwave said, and the screens suddenly queued up showing Prowl's interrogation room.

Flint sat down and Jazz made him look at the screen, trying to figure out which session it had been. If it was significant and Flint didn't remember, they were in trouble. From the state of Prowl's plating, it was likely near the end of the second session.

"Flint: summarize most effective techniques against Autobot Prowl," Soundwave instructed.

"Freezing," Flint said. "That freaked him out and got him to talk, give actual intel, even if it wasn't great intel, it was good. Destroying the Praxus symbols knocked him right off. If you get him back, I'd continue with that. You've got enough folks to handle the biggest trouble I had with him; the rest breaks seemed to reset his will. Every time I came in it was like he was facing me for the first time in a lot of ways. Break him down and don't let him recover." 

Soundwave hummed. "Did Flint: find anything suspicious about the last session with Prowl?" 

Flint, and Jazz for that matter, ran the joors involved over and over until Flint was sure of what he wanted to say. "He got a lot of fight back, more than usual," he said carefully. "It doesn't make sense to me, really. He knew I'd stop if he gave me something. I proved it several times. If he knew rescue was coming, why be more damaged than he had to be? If he didn't know ... well, I think he's something of a masochist, or just plain crazy. If it wasn't for who he was, I'd almost think he was a test for me."

"Response: acceptable," Soundwave said, then fixed Flint with a long, silent stare.

Jazz squirmed.

"Flint: performed above expectation," Soundwave said. "Soundwave: will be transferring you to DDC." 

The shock that flashed through Flint and Jazz was honest, as was the excitement that built. Only the excitement was from two very different sources. Flint saw the ultimate promotion. Jazz saw the end of his mission.

"Yes, sir," Flint responded with some genuine excitement and immediately started making plans, what he'd do, who he'd work to please, what his goals were. Jazz's plans were similar, but with a much different goal in mind.

This meant only a few more vorns until he could get home and be _himself_ again. 

* * *

Forty eight orns after being rescued, a full decaorn and a half, and Prowl was finally recovered enough to be chaffing at the medical restrictions. Ratchet had let him out, but only if he stayed with Prime. As odd as that may have looked to some, there was actually good reason for it beyond their existing relationship: Optimus Prime was one of the very few that could get Prowl to stop working, relax and even recharge. Ratchet didn't pretend to understand what was between them. He simply took advantage of it.

That still left a few joors every orn between when the sedatives and pain-blocks wore off and when he was obligated to take a few more, because he simply could not take the disappointed look Optimus would give him for being stubborn. Still, every orn the time Prowl had to work got a tiny bit longer and that meant he was closer to being healed. At least in frame.

His spark was a different matter and it drove him to ping Whiplash.

It wasn't answered for nearly a klik, then, finally, ::Prowl. What can I do for you?::

::Any word from or on Jazz?:: Prowl asked with all the professional calm he could muster.

::Ah,:: Whiplash said. ::Ratchet finally lower your pain blockers? Surprised it took you this long to ask.::

::I've been trying to be a good mecha and not work too much,:: Prowl said softly. ::But yes. I'm fully conscious for almost three joors per orn now.::

::In that case,:: Whiplash said. ::Got word he's being transferred to DDC. Timing puts me on edge, but Jazz decided to stick it out, see where it goes.::

::He did get real intel from me, even if it was only of limited value,:: Prowl told him. ::He's very good at the job. Thank you for the update.::

::Be prepared to not get any for a while,:: Whiplash told him, then the line cut.

"I always have been," Prowl sighed to himself and checked the blocked bond. Jazz wasn't in intense distress, but that was all he could tell. Yes, there was too great a probability that Soundwave knew something was wrong with Flint and wanted him in a more secure location before striking, but getting assigned to the DDC was also Jazz's mission. They would all simply have to trust Jazz to get himself out if anything went down, but at least until he went back on duty, Prowl could leave his side unblocked and ready to be there if Jazz dropped his block and called for help.

He did what work he could, mostly scheduling and inventory. It was dull and stationary, but distracting enough that it decreased the odds of him sneaking out to drive. That was difficult to ignore and getting more difficult every orn. He was built to drive, to spend at least 70% of every orn on his tires and he missed it when he wasn't in pain or hazy enough on pain blockers to notice time. Rumor aside, he usually had managed at least a short patrol most orns. He wanted that back, though he knew he wasn't recovered enough to transform.

He was glaring at all of the work that hadn't been done while he was away, wondering what this army would do if he actually did disappear, and was just getting around to deciding that he didn't care when the door opened.

"Evening, Prime," Prowl inclined his helm in as much of a salute/bow as he was feeling up for.

"How are you feeling, Prowl?" Optimus asked warmly. 

Though it was a habitual question, Prowl responded honestly rather than giving a platitude. He'd learned that early in his dealings with this mech. "On the border between aching and bored," he admitted, knowing what was coming and just not finding it in himself to object. The mood he had towards the army was creeping into the rest of him.

"Can I give you a massage?" Prime asked as he stepped close and got out a pain patch. "Or someone to talk to?"

Pale blue optics slid off as the pain patch was swapped out, giving him a small rush that came from suddenly _not hurting_ , but also with the hazy buzz that functionally turned off his tac-net. Oh, it still functioned, likely flawlessly, but the part that was _Prowl_ could no longer make much sense of the results.

Slumped forward in relief, Prowl thought to straighten after a moment and focused his optics on Optimus. "Sometimes I wonder why I hate those things."

"You'll remember again when you're sober," Optimus said with a sad smile, letting his hand come to rest on Prowl's shoulder. He squeezed gently. "Come keep me company," he said, and put light pressure on Prowl in the direction of the berth. 

"Mmm, likely," Prowl agreed and stood to follow. "How was your shift?" he asked as he found his balance against Optimus's solid frame and was grateful that his leader didn't even shift until Prowl was steady and no longer leaning against him.

"We're still catching up from your absence," Optimus said. "We've gotten into quite the disarrayed mess without you." He kept a hand near Prowl's back as they walked towards the berth. 

"That is something we really should change," Prowl murmured as he briefly caught the thought from before. "One mech should not be so important."

Optimus sighed heavily. "I guess I should say, disarrayed compared to your work. We functioned. It's just hard to replace your skill set." 

"Fortunate or unfortunately," Prowl accepted the statement and almost leaned into the warm, welcoming field so close to him. He waited until Optimus had made himself comfortable on the berth and then snuggled in to keep both processors and frame from objecting too much when he booted up. Back to the room with the lower doorwing hanging off the edge of the berth and the other one angled straight up. His right leg, the one that had taken so much abuse, was propped up on Optimus to soak in just that little bit of extra heat that would make it ache a tiny bit less. The rest of him was snuggled as close as he could to his leader, and what couldn't be up against the bigger mech made due with a blanket. "I miss him."

"I know," Optimus said, rubbing Prowl's shoulder with his thumb. "I hear from SpecOps that they're expecting as little as a few more vorns before he can come back." 

Prowl gave a small sound and relaxed a bit more, needing the contact and gentle affection more than he even knew. "That's what Whiplash told me today. It won't be soon enough. I need him to understand I don't hold it against him. I can't do that until I can _talk_ to him."

"I'm sure he knows that," Optimus murmured. "But he _feels_ more than you. Even if he understands, it might take him a while to really believe it. I'm sure he is dealing with immense guilt." 

"I know," Prowl huffed in a mixture of frustration and fondness. "He's a good mech in a bad place. Yet if this succeeds, it will be worth it. We could end the war with the intel he's getting."

"Could," Optimus hummed. "Even if we don't, it will help, immensely. How do you feel about your mate right now?" he asked carefully. "Other than missing him." 

Prowl had to really think about that, the touch lulling him into relaxing. There were unpleasant memories that were still too fresh to have been archived, yet he didn't associate that pain and fear with his mate. Jazz was the source of hope. The thing that kept Prowl focused and helped him endure, told him how to make it. "He's my courage."

Optimus's smile warmed his field. "I know he will want to be with you as badly as you want to be with him, in time." 

"I'll be there when he's ready," Prowl said with as much emotion as he'd ever displayed around Optimus.

"I know," Optimus said. "I'll be here for you, whatever you need, until then." He tucked around Prowl, holding the smaller mech. How much Prowl had to truly trust him to snuggle closer, relax and want the contact when he this out of it was an incredible feeling.

"Thank you," Prowl whispered as he began to slip into recharge with no intention of fighting it.

* * *

"Prime, Prowl, a moment please," Whiplash said, poking his helm around the doorway, looking in on their strategy meeting. 

"Here or somewhere more secure?" Prowl asked with a calmness that his spark didn't match.

"This is fine," Whiplash said, and stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind him. "Jazz sent word, he's set up a transfer that allows him to leave without burning this alias." 

Prowl's doorwings instantly shot up in anticipation and for a long klik he was nothing more than the mate of a mech who had been gone far too long. "How is he?"

"Alive and functioning," Whiplash said. "He'll send his pickup location once he's out, and after that he goes through a SpecOps debrief, which could take some time. Especially considering everything that happened." 

Prowl quivered and the question he just realized he wouldn't get permission for died in his vocalizer. No, he would not be allowed on the pickup team. Optimus reached over to place his hand on Prowl's shoulder and rubbed a gentle circle between the doorwings to soon them.

"And after that he can come home," Prowl said, though it was really a desperately hoped for confirmation request.

"When he is stable, yes, he can come home," Whiplash nodded. "Once I'm convinced that he and the construct are completely separated from each other." 

Prowl winced in remembrance of that that. "I'd rather it was extracted and erased," he muttered, then seemed to draw himself up and focused on his duty. "Has he passed any intel on yet?"

"Not since the last drop," Whiplash said. "He's keeping whatever he has left with him, no sense risking it in a drop. And yes, the construct will be extracted and stored securely. I doubt we'll need it again."

"I hope not," Prowl said and resigned himself to not having any intel and the torment of knowing his mate was coming home soon but not when. "Thank you for the update, Whiplash."

"I'll bring more as I get them," Whiplash said, then hesitated for a moment. "I thought about not telling you until he was here, would you have preferred that?" 

Prowl really had to think about it, what _he_ would have preferred up against what he had been built to do. The intensity of the stress told Whiplash all he needed to know.

"Gotcha. I know that look," Whiplash interrupted the internal debate and watched Prowl's frame relaxed back to work-normal. "I'll let you know if his condition changes."

"Thank you," Prowl accepted the statement and watched Whiplash slip out. "I'm glad you like to snuggle," he spoke softly to Optimus. "It is going to be a difficult wait."

"I'm glad you will let me cuddle you, it helps you," Optimus pointed out with a smile. 

"I think you like it too," Prowl offered a small smile. "Now, back to work."

* * *

Jazz waited along the side of an unpaved road near the outskirts of Simfur, leaning against a crumbling factory and examining his newly-painted hand. The colors of a buymech, appropriately scuffed to help him blend in, no one would glance twice at him out here. A few others loitered nearby, all of them trying to earn energon for the next orn, credits for repairs, willing to do whatever it took. Jazz watched them while he waited. Citizens of Simfur, yes, Decepticon by alliance, but they just wanted something that would keep them alive.

A transport turned onto the road, headlights washing all the desperate mecha. Most cringed, but refused to let themselves back away. A transport could mean wealthy, or many.

It rolled to a stop in front of Jazz, who grinned and sauntered over, leaning in the door that opened for him and looking in. "Like what you see?"

The non-descript non-Decepticon looked him up and down and nodded. "You'll do nicely. Two orns, fifty credits and energon while you work."

"That'll do," Jazz said, hopping aboard. The door closed behind him and he swung around into the main hold to join the Ops team waiting for him. "Ooh, a gangbang." 

"We have quite the party planned and you're the centerpiece," the driver grinned back before the transport took off, still in full character. They wouldn't admit who or what any of them really were until well after they left the city.

Jazz flopped down onto the lap of one of the larger builds in the back and made himself comfortable there, purring and teasing with the group as they drove. The mech played along, but kept his hands very politely restricted to Jazz's waist and shoulders.

"We're into neutral ground," the driver called after several groons had slipped by. "No tails, no detected scans."

"Good," Whiplash said, appearing from seemingly nowhere. He looked Jazz up and down. "Welcome back." 

"Good ta be back," Jazz slumped in relief. "How's Prowl?"

"Getting along," Whiplash said, and jerked his helm towards the back. "You're not in for an enjoyable few orns, go get some rest while you can."

Jazz jumped off the comfortable lap and patted the mech's knee. "Thanks, friend," he said.

Engines rumbled back to him and Jazz quirked a small smile before heading back and pulling down a berth. He flopped onto it and sank into the padding with a slow x-vent. Over, finally over. His visor flickered for a few moments, then blackened.

"Right," Whiplash said, and pointed at the mech Jazz had been cuddling with. "Keep watch on him. He goes into stasis before we cross into our territory, but let him recharge first. Stickshift, let us know when we're close."

"Got it," the driver said.

"If he so much as twitches, stun him," Whiplash told the rest of the team. 

* * *

Jazz groaned as he booted up. He felt more stable than he had in vorns, and also more wrung out. Memories still sorting themselves out he wasn't sure what had been changed, only that it was a lot.

~You were a mess, for you,~ Whiplash said. ~I got as much done as I could with you offline, but now I need to see how things are getting mixed up.~

~'kay,~ Jazz responded agreeably to his boss/handler/master. ~Whatcha want me ta do?~

~Think about Flint for a klik,~ Whiplash said. ~We'll start easy.~

Jazz let his processors wander on that subject. Bright and sharp and first was watching his frame under the construct's control rape his mate.

He cringed away from the memory, but Whiplash held him there, left the memory playing. Jazz could feel another looming presence seeping through his processors and recognized Mindguard.

~Imagine who Flint _is,_ ~ Whiplash instructed. 

Construct. Sadistic interrogator. Decepticon of convenience. Gratefully packed away.

~Good,~ Whiplash said. ~Hold that. Keep him in mind. We're going to be working on a few things and it might feel weird, but stay there.~

~Got it,~ Jazz said, and spent a few breems like that, feeling them both tugging and pulling and tweaking in his mind. Neural connections were being linked, severed, pulled about, and it did feel incredibly bizarre. He'd never come back with the edges between himself and his cover so fuzzy before.

~Hard reboot,~ Whiplash warned, and Jazz felt everything immediately power down. When he came back up, everything felt amazingly settled. ~Bring Flint online,~ Whiplash told him. 

Jazz went to the spot his construct had been, where he'd always gone to activate him, but nothing was there. He carefully poked around the area, well-familiar with where his covers always resided and turned up nothing.

~I think we got it all,~ Whiplash said, and Jazz felt Mindguard's presence disconnect. ~You're staying in here for a few orns for observation, and we'll do another scan at that point.~

~Right. So ... what's for entertainment? _Please_ tell me you brought my music,~ Jazz asked before Whiplash disconnected.

"Part of it," Whiplash snorted in amusement.

"Good enough," Jazz said. "I'll make sure you know if I get bored." 

"And we both know that I'll sic your mate on you if you do it too much," Whiplash huffed with amusement at the so typical Jazz statement. "Come on, time to go to your temporary quarters."

* * *

"So, you're going to explain just why I'm torquing off the army's tactician or I'm going to keep my word to him," Whiplash glared at Jazz firmly.

Jazz cringed, then huffed. "Because if he knows when I'm getting out he's going to be waiting for me looking all gorgeous and lovesick and I'm not sure I can handle that yet." 

Whiplash softened immediately. He was no less annoyed, but that fell under 'Pit damned good reasons' for it. "What do you need?"

"I kind of wish he would yell at me, or hate me ... or something," Jazz said, rubbing at the connection points of his visor. "I don't know. He's going to be too damn forgiving. I was in control and he wasn't in a good place, and ... I _gave_ him to Flint." Jazz shuddered. "Should've stayed in control." 

"You aren't right with what happened yet," Whiplash sighed. "You know a deep merge or hardline would do wonders for you."

"Which Prowl would give me in a sparkbeat," Jazz said with a shrug. "'Cause he loves me. Don't feel like he should right now." 

"You aren't ready to be forgiven. He's not going to understand," Whiplash understood all too well. "What are you planning to do when you walk out?"

"Go on a really long drive," Jazz said. "Then comm him and ask if he's up for seeing me and setting a time."

Whiplash nodded thoughtfully, then stepped aside in a silent signal that Jazz was free to go. "Take care. You won't be back on duty for some time."

"Normally I'd fight you on that," Jazz said with a half grin. "But yeah. Think so." He tipped his fingers to his helm on his way out. He headed outside through the quickest route and hit the pavement with a hard rev of his engines, taking off down mostly deserted city streets. It was freedom like he hadn't felt in ages it seemed. No duties. No schedule. No fear of discovery. No _Flint_ running his frame and threatening to destroy him if he slipped up.

No more Soundwave.

He let the relief of that shudder through him as he drove, loving the feeling of the cold air against his plating as he went wherever he wanted for the first time in vorns.

When he was at the edge of the city and flopped on his back and staring up at the sky, he opened a comm to his mate and pinged him. 

::Love, how are you?:: Prowl's voice crackled with emotion; longing, desire, worry and so much more.

::I'm in the city,:: Jazz said. ::Got released from Ops holding. Wondered if you wanna meet up somewhere.::

::Of course,:: Prowl's thrill came out in a harmonic trill that must have vibrated his entire frame. ::Where and when?::

Jazz pinged a location not too far from where he was. He wasn't ready for the intimacy of their berth yet. ::One joor? That work for you?::

::I'll be there,:: Prowl promised the same way he did when Jazz was trapped behind enemy lines and rescue was coming. ::Be safe.::

::I will,:: Jazz said, and cut the line after a beat. He sighed and stared up at the sky.

After almost a joor, he transformed back into alt mode and drove to the meeting site. When he transformed there he could already hear Prowl coming in, and knew his bonded would be there right on time as promised. As Prowl's alt mode came into view he took a few steps forward, and couldn't help the small smile when he saw his mate. _Healthy._

Prowl transformed while rolling and it was painfully obvious it took much of his considerable self-control to stop himself from pouncing on Jazz. Instead he managed to come to a halt at arm's length and spread his in hopeful welcome.

"Hey, love," Jazz said, staying where he was. His smile faded and Prowl dropped his arms slowly in resignation. "How are you?"

"Relieved to see you as yourself. As healed as medical science can make me. I missed you so much," he pushed that feeling against the block still on their bond from Jazz's side.

All Jazz could see was Prowl screaming and the empty look on his face as Flint had raped him. He shook himself. "Yeah. Me too." If he opened the bond he was afraid the memories would rush Prowl. "Prowl, listen..." He rubbed the back of his neck, trailing off. "I dunno." 

Prowl pushed back with how much Jazz had helped him, that Prowl had only managed because of Jazz risking so much. Again a white hand extended towards Jazz. "Let me help."

"How are you okay with me?" Jazz whispered. 

The hand remained outstretched. "Because I understand why it happened. If I had not failed first, if my guards had not failed, none of that would have happened. What you did was so brave, you held me together through it all. How could I not be okay with you?"

"I gave you up to that _rapist,_ " Jazz said.

"To save us both and every Autobot and Neutral in the DDC," Prowl couldn't hide his shock that Jazz thought the two things were even remotely close in importance. "Jazz, it was unpleasant. It hurt. It scrambled my needs for a while. I won't lie. Working through that wasn't pleasant. But I have worked through it as much as I can without being intimate." He dropped his gaze a bit. "I was warned that you haven't had the time you need to process what happened." His optics came up to meet Jazz's. "You have whatever time you need. You have any support I can give. I am eager to finish my recovery, our recovery, together."

Jazz nodded, then x-vented. "Probably haven't, yeah," he said. "You wanna go on a drive with me?"

"I would enjoy that very much," Prowl smiled with a touch of hope.

Jazz nodded again, shifting back and forth on his pedes, then motioned with his helm for Prowl to follow and transformed, spinning about and taking off. He knew his mate wouldn't have any trouble catching or keeping up with him. Prowl was the faster in almost any situation. Where Jazz had an advantage was agility and acceleration, having a lighter frame despite their comparable size.

Only he wasn't trying to lose his mate, only to drive and feel that freedom for a while longer. That Prowl loved to drive at least as much as Jazz did never entered the equation. Nope, not once, but it was good to feel Prowl's field again, joyful in the speed and movement as they left the boundaries of the city and headed around the outskirts. Longer stretches of road with nothing to interrupt them, kept relatively debris free by other drivers who came out here to escape from everything for a short while.

After nearly a joor Jazz slowed and stopped, pulling off to the side of the road. There were some crumbling structures around them, probably a small shopping outlet at one point, but with the signs long since torn down for scrap metal it was impossible to tell. Jazz transformed and sat, keeping his hands to himself as Prowl joined him.

Prowl waited quietly, not willing to do anything that might startle his uncertain mate. Jazz was grateful for it.

After a few kliks, he pulled his knees up and folded his arms on them, then rested his helm against them, hiding his face. A moment later, he dropped the block on their bond. Everything seemed still for a moment, then Prowl's relief/concern/love/support came rushing in with all the subtlety of a high summer storm over Vos.

Jazz shivered. ~I really missed you,~ he said. He hadn't intended to move this quickly, but having Prowl _right there_...

~As did I.~ Prowl responded with unintentional memories of missing Jazz and how even the best substitute he'd ever found, snuggling with their Prime, was a pale substitute to the warmth of his mate.

~S'okay if I recharge in our quarters tonight?~ Jazz asked, and tried to press over the fact that it was _important_ for him to have permission. 

~Yes,~ Prowl said firmly, sharing how much he wanted it and would not allow himself to ask out of respect for Jazz's need to move at his pace.

Jazz nodded, then reached out one hand and slipped it around Prowl's. He held tightly and x-vented. The spike of joy at the contact traveled through Prowl's field as much as the bond, and yet he didn't try for more as they sat quietly, just taking in the night. Neither cared how long they'd been there, the first shaky step towards becoming one again taken. Despite that Jazz heard it first, it was Prowl who shifted at the approach of two racing engines revving hard.

~Twins,~ Prowl said, silently asking if Jazz wished to not be seen.

Jazz shrugged. ~Probably won't even notice us,~ he said, knowing that they would. 

Prowl hummed acceptance of the desire not to move and settled again, content with sitting by his bonded, holding his hand and watching the stars as the red and yellow streaks zoomed by.

Their pattern changed a little as they moved past Jazz and Prowl, and then adjusted back and continued on their way. They'd noticed, but didn't interfere. Likely the most misunderstood pair in the army after Jazz and Prowl, they understood the need to be alone and away.

~To be that young and energetic again,~ Jazz said with a small smile. 

~I know, though you're hardly unenergentic when you're in the mood,~ Prowl purred, memories of watching Jazz dance, race and hunt all flickering freely across the bond.

Jazz hummed. ~Glad you think so.~ He squeezed Prowl's hand. ~Sorry about everything.~

~I know,~ Prowl squeezed back and tried to express that he knew it both from a hardcoded level as an Enforcer and a personal level as a tactician. ~We all do our best and cope with the results, good and bad.~

~Yeah,~ Jazz said with a hint of a smile, then he let go of Prowl's hand and stood up. "Feel like turning in?"

"Willingly," Prowl allowed a soft sense of relief to finally see his berth again after so long. ~Do you want a separate berth?~ he asked hesitantly, hoping for a no but bracing for a yes.

~I'll think about it,~ Jazz murmured, brushing the back of his hand over Prowl's. He hesitated for a moment, then turned and grabbed Prowl in a tight embrace. White hands and black arms immediately wrapped around him in reply and Prowl began to tremble ever so slightly at finally, _finally_ having his mate in his arms again.

"Sorry--" Jazz's voice broke, because he knew this was going to make it harder for them to get back to base than if he had waited. He was shaking, pressed chest-to-chest with Prowl, and didn't want to move. It didn't help that Prowl was just as desperate not to move. Somewhere in the randomness of joy in the contact was a thought to call a transport instead of giving this up.

Jazz nodded against Prowl's neck and Prowl pinged the base for a pick-up request for two, no damage. They held there for the breems it took for the transport to arrive and settle for them. It was only a sense of duty that got Prowl to move and he nudged Jazz to move with him. It wasn't quite chest to chest anymore, but they were pressed close and both trembling slightly.

Jazz was fairly sure it was an Ops mech in the driver's seat, but he wasn't sure and didn't care in the moment.

As long as they got back to base without having to let go of each other. 

* * *

They moved slowly through the quiet base, only being watched by those on duty or the restless. They were draped against each other, each step carefully taken to not have to part. Jazz could teek Prowl's relief when they came to the quarters they'd shared for so long. ~How long since you recharged here?~ he asked. 

~A couple vorns after you left,~ Prowl answered with a bit a shame. ~I didn't recharge much until then.~

Jazz leaned in and lightly bumped his helm against his mate's, understanding coming across the bond. ~I know.~

Prowl relaxed into the brief contact and reflexively tried to follow it, still craving the contact he'd been denied for so long.

~Let's both get some rest,~ Jazz murmured.

"Yes," Prowl breathed out with a surge of desire to hold and be held, for the quiet companionship and warmth that he treasured the most of their time together. Yet he silently questioned if Jazz wished to be next to him.

"Think I'll be alright," Jazz murmured as they walked in. He didn't want to stop touching his mate. "I'll move if I have ta, yeah?"

"Yes," Prowl smiled and loosened the control he'd tried to keep over his desire to be close and touch, even in recharge. "You settle first?" he asked when they paused before the berth with the best flier-grade padding, pillows and blankets they could order, wheedle or claim.

Jazz nodded and thought about it for a moment, then moved to position himself on the side of the berth closer to the door, his back towards it. It put him between where Prowl would be and the entrance. Prowl settled smoothly on the far side, his doorwings off the side of the berth as he preferred and reached out to draw Jazz against him, though he didn't even give the most gentle of tugs, only a sense of wanting Jazz closer.

Jazz scooched a little, resting his hand on Prowl's waist, and sighed. ~Good for now?~

~Very good,~ Prowl purred as began to shut down for recharge more easily than he had in very long vorns. Jazz smiled a bit as he watched. He didn't feel like recharging just yet, and stayed online most of the night getting used to the sight of his mate. 

* * *

Jazz and Prowl rested back-to-back in their quarters, relaxing on the small lounge together, each with their own reading to do. Many of their orns passed like this, with Jazz driving and wandering base when Prowl was working, and sitting together without much conversation when Prowl was off duty.

Jazz was still off duty, under no illusions that it was due to the status of his recovery with Prowl. He was trying to not let it make him push faster than he should, but it was hard. He wanted to _work._

Jazz glanced down at the little box in his lap once more. He'd had it there for most of the evening, trying to work up the nerve to give it to Prowl. 

Prowl who was endlessly patient and understood him and got that he needed to work out his own glitches in his own way and never pushed for more and was _gorgeous_ and seductive in his own quiet way and...

Jazz's field blushed and he felt Prowl's questioning, amused teek. Primus he felt like a mechling falling for a cute bot in the shop, not like a centuries-mated adult with his bonded. 

~I rather like it on occasion,~ Prowl purred deeply. ~It feels good to be the one that reduces you to such a state.~

Jazz snorted. ~Yeah, well, you're cute,~ he retorted, then took the box and reached around behind, shoving it at Prowl.

~And yours,~ Prowl's thought crossed the bond before he registered that Jazz had moved. ~For me?~ he trilled with open curiosity and anticipation. Tiny gifts were a long tradition between them, growing from a time when neither had many credits to spare but courting gifts were simply the social expectation. One managed it no matter how few credits one had. Even though they now earned more than they honestly knew how to spend, the gifts given at random were rarely worth more than when they'd first been dating.

With a quiver of his doorwings Prowl carefully opened the box. Inside he saw a small selection of jelly treats, carefully arranged in fading colors, two of each flavor. To share, clearly. Prowl saw after a quick scan that they were all his favorites. 

~Thank you, love,~ Prowl purred and selected one to slip into his mouth even as he shifted on the couch to sit normally and picked the other one of the same flavor.

Jazz leaned back, ending up with his helm in Prowl's lap, opening his mouth. ~Please?~ he asked happily. 

Prowl simply smiled down at his mate and lightly slid the jelly along Jazz's lip plates. Jazz hummed and darted his glossa out to lick at the candy, but didn't do more than that as it slid along his lip plates, leaving a faintly tingling trail of charged flavor.

Jazz couldn't help but grin as they continued to tease each other, then finally lifted his helm a little to take the candy. Prowl lifted it away teasingly, then let Jazz take it. Jazz settled back down, humming happily as the flavor spread through his mouth. It hardly mattered that it wasn't a favorite of his. This act of normalcy in affection was desperately needed as a step forward. He knew, in the back of his processors, that Prowl would likely never object if they never interfaced again as long as they recharged together and spent time together. That wasn't what either one wanted, however. They wanted it all back, and this was a safe way forward. Mimicking how they first became lovers made returning to being lovers easier.

As the last tingle of the jelly dissipated from Jazz's mouth another was caressing his lips.

He shivered as they went through the slow back-and-forth for half the box of candies, first Prowl trying one, then Jazz. After the fourth treat, after Prowl had eaten his, Jazz put his hand on Prowl's, stopping him from picking up another. Prowl raised an optic ridge at him. "Wanna taste it a different way," Jazz said. 

"How?" Prowl asked with a crackle of charge from memories of what that could mean.

Jazz reached up and curled his hand around Prowl's neck and tugged lightly. His mate warmed quickly and followed the guiding hand down to kiss Jazz, their lips parting at the caress of a glossa. Jazz melted into it, pushing himself up as they shared their first real kiss in vorns. Soft and sweet, nothing that hinted at going further, enjoying the way they felt. 

"Like that," Jazz breathed when they finally parted. "I want ta taste all of them like that."

"I think we can manage that," Prowl said, and slipped another into his mouth.

* * *

Jazz hooked his thumbs in his armor as he walked through the halls, humming to himself. He'd start the orn off with lunch with Prowl, then go on a drive, then maybe see if he could coax Prowl out for a starlight date. It should be a good orn, and he fully expected to end it snuggled up with his mate. He nodded, smiled and greeted those who passed him, his mood better than it had been for a while.

"Hey Jazz, so glad you are back," Sideswipe's cheery greeting drew his attention to the twins and the minibot flier just behind them.

"Sides, my mech," Jazz said, grinning at them and lifting a hand in greeting as he stopped to chat with them. "How's hangin'?" 

"Way better now that you're back," Sideswipe exaggerated his relief, though it was real. "Prowl is a _terror_ when he doesn't get it often enough."

"...What?" Jazz asked laughingly, rubbing the back of his helm. "Is he really that different when I'm gone?"

Sunstreaker snorted. "Terror is apt."

"So _you're_ the reason he's being so much nicer?" the minibot asked, pushing between the twins a little and staring up at Jazz.

Jazz looked between him and then twins then shrugged. "Guess I'm guilty as charged."

"Never leave again," the minibot insisted. He held out his hand. "Powerglide."

"Glad ta meet'cha, Powerglide," Jazz said, shaking his hand.

"So, going to join game night this time?" Sideswipe asked.

"Probably, yeah," Jazz said. "Bored out of my code. See you both there?"

"Definitely, now that Prowl isn't likely to lock us up for looking wrong," Sideswipe gave an unrepentant grin even as his brother groaned.

"Terror or not, even I know he wasn't _that_ bad," Sunstreaker snorted at his brother. "He just doesn't give _any_ mercy."

"No mercy for you two is a pretty hard line," Jazz said, then tipped his fingers to his helm. "Catch'a later, my mecha." 

"Have fun," Sideswipe grinned lasciviously at him. "Can't keep our CTO waiting," he gave a wink before the twins went on their way. Powerglide watched a moment longer before also moving along.

~Love, are you a terror when I'm not here?~ Jazz teased his mate. 

There was a wince across the bond. ~Less tolerant at least,~ he admitted.

~'S cute,~ Jazz said with a grin. ~Probably means the washracks are cleaner when I'm away, too.~

~Washracks, brig, commissary, common rooms. Likely the entire base, including the outside walls,~ Prowl wasn't sure if he should be amused or embarrassed about it. It wasn't like he looked for trouble to punish, or did so outside of regulations. He just gave almost no warnings.

~Explains why everyone likes me so much,~ Jazz said as he entered the rec room and spotted his mate with a wash of warmth over the bond. He walked up behind him and kissed the top of his helm. ~Works pretty well, actually, it's good for mecha to like me because then they tell me their gossip, and you can learn a _lot_ from gossip.~

~Indeed,~ Prowl's engine purred softly and he leaned into the field contact, careful not to physically touch without permission. ~It also reminds them that I am normally very reasonable and lenient, even if they would rather not acknowledge it.~

~Lenient for you,~ Jazz said, and slipped into the seat across from Prowl and accepted the cube his mate had poured for him. "How's your orn, love?"

"Quiet so far. If I didn't know why the Decepticons were so quiet I'd be worried. As it stands I'm pleased our strike on the DDC was so successful, even if most of the prisoners will not be ready for action for some time. The prank war is in a natural lull, so even that front is calm at the moment," Prowl spoke about well known and functionally unclassified things. ~I'm glad it's quiet. It makes it easier to get back to you at a reasonable joor.~

~I like it too,~ Jazz said, taking a sip of his cube and slipping his hand into Prowl's. He ran his thumb over the back of Prowl's hand. "Maybe I can kick-start that prank war if you get bored." 

Prowl warmed happily at the contact and actually smiled slightly. "I'd rather you didn't, unless you wish more time to yourself."

Jazz chuckled. "Not particularly. I'll leave it alone, then. Any plans for the evening?"

"Coming home on time and spending it with you," Prowl tried not to purr too loudly.

"Good, I'll plan for that, then," Jazz said, and squeezed lightly. Prowl turned his hand over to interlace their fingers and willingly just held there, enjoying the touch and field of his bonded.

"Anything you care to do?" Prowl asked softly.

Jazz tilted his helm and hummed. "Spend time with you," he said and earned a warm smile as they settled into a comfortable silence to sip their energon and simply enjoy spending time together.

* * *

Jazz knew without asking that despite being late, Prowl was in a pretty good mood. Whatever made him stay late hadn't upset him. Rather it had smoothed the stress that his duties generated. So as the bond shortened with Prowl's approach, Jazz expected it would be a normal evening for them.

He rose to greet Prowl at the door, leaning against it and smiling as it opened. "Running late?" he hummed.

"Optimus wished to speak with me just before shift end," Prowl explained as the door closed and he extended a hand to his mate. "It turned out to be good news about some of our rescued POWs and asking after us."

"I like good news," Jazz said, taking Prowl's hand and pulling his mate close. He guided Prowl's arm around his waist and then slid his hand up to Prowl's shoulder. He stepped forward, guiding Prowl gently into the first steps of a slow dance. "Anyone I know?"

"Is there anyone you don't know?" Prowl chuckled with a soft nuzzle as they danced. "Boomer, Tiger Eye and Shadow's Red are three I've heard you speak of."

Jazz hummed. "Good mecha ta have around," he said. "Blaster'll be happy. Helps us on the front, too." He nuzzled back. "I like the good news days." 

"As do I. There aren't nearly enough," Prowl agreed as he relaxed into the contact of the slow dance and the warmth of his mate against him and under his hands. Jazz smiled and pressed a kiss to the corner of Prowl's mouth, then slid their cheeks together before pressing his face against Prowl's neck, and pulling his mate's against his. He hummed a slow melody, an old Praxian hymn and Prowl relaxed further into the moving embrace. It was such a reminder of better times that Prowl wasn't long before he sank into that time and place more fully simply to enjoy the moment.

They moved together easily, dancing through memories of their former life, full of quiet nights and outings and moments lived together, easy and in love.

Jazz x-vented against Prowl's neck, his spark calmer than it had been in a long time. The field against his was calm too, and warm in the best of ways. It was another reminder that his mate loved him, not for the physical pleasure but for everything that wasn't. Their ability to simply be quiet together. The comfort they each took in contact like this. The long talks about anything in their extensive experience and not needing to agree for it to end well. Their ability to accept the other's need to vent, be held or even fight to cope when living got to be too much.

Jazz's humming faded and he gripped Prowl tightly. "Love you, Prowler," he murmured, then lifted his helm and let their mouths slip easily together. 

~I love you, my Jazz,~ Prowl moaned into the contact. His processors already distracted and his frame wanting more than it was getting, he didn't notice when his hands slid down Jazz's back and up side sides, though he did pay attention when he asked to deepen the kiss.

Jazz's glossa traced his and they spent a few delirious moments tasting each other before Prowl realized his hands were on Jazz's chest, trying to tease the invisible seam there, and Jazz was gently--firmly--covering them to stop any further motion. Jazz pulled his head back, breaking the kiss, and the dance stilled.

It took too long, Prowl knew, for him to understand what was happening and why, but when he did a shiver passed down his frame. ~I'm sorry.~ Simple glyphs, far overused and often not meant fully, were rich and deep in their honesty now. As was the truth that Prowl's charge was reaching an uncomfortable point.

Jazz cycled his vents and held Prowl with his gaze for a few more moments before he let go and stepped away. They stood apart, silent for almost a klik, then Jazz shook his helm. ~Sorry.~

~It will be all right,~ Prowl promised and glanced at their berth. Though they had one of the largest quarters between being a bonded couple and Prowl's rank, it was still only a single room and thanks to both their natures and training, they'd never put up any sort of screening to separate the berth area from the living space. ~Can you handle it if I see to myself?~

~'Course,~ Jazz said immediately. ~Of _course_ , love. Will it bother you if I feel?~

~I would enjoy it greatly if you did,~ Prowl warmed even more at the thought of sharing pleasure, even in such a limited way. He leaned in and kissed Jazz softly, careful and chaste in it. He hardly needed more with the way the charge was dancing along his circuits. Then he drew away to go to the berth and laid down on his back. White hands stroked down his chest, encouraging the charge and holding the bond open.

Jazz gave a slow x-vent and watched for a moment, then headed for the lounge and sat, then reclined sideways along it. His visor powered off as he focused on the bond. ~Might be good,~ he murmured thoughtfully. ~Feeling you like this without me touching you. A better memory--~ He frowned as the last time he'd _touched_ his mate rose up in his mind, unbidden, and tried to push it away before Prowl could feel it. ~Can you touch inside yourself?~ 

The startled response was one of surprise rather than rejection. ~Yes,~ Prowl decided and reordered his plans for how he'd see to his charge. His hands slid lower as he shifted to kneel upright for better reach deep between his legs. This wasn't the stimulation he'd been planning, though true to protocols it didn't take long for his valve to warm and grow slick as he teased the soft platelets and outer nodes.

Jazz cycled his vents again and relaxed back, sending his thanks that Prowl would do this for him. Feeling this through the bond was nothing like being there, but the ghosts of sensation along with the surges of arousal and long familiarity with both act and actor gave Jazz a vivid mental image of what was happening. Fingers dipped in just a bit to draw lubricant out, further charging sensors designed to improve responsiveness with it.

His own hand moved lower, not entirely voluntarily, and the flat of his palm rested over his spike cover. He locked it and put a triple-password over the controls with random 80-digit codes that would expire in three joors. He didn't want his cover opening right now, and he didn't trust his own control with Prowl--

Jazz bit down on his lip and arched up. The memory of the taste flooded him, he could feel Prowl's fingers being covered with the slickness as they pressed in, spreading slickness and stretching the long-unused valve. Oh, that brought up wonderful memories, and Prowl sent a pulse over the bond that both shared some of his and gently asked for some from Jazz.

Fingers pressed deeper, teasing at nodes that were never touched other than for pleasure and Prowl moaned deeply. A whine caught in Jazz's vocalizer. Primus he wanted to be inside his mate. He couldn't yet, and he knew that, but he _wanted_ it. He hadn't expected to be drawn into this so quickly, but a lifetime of sharing each other's frames should have told him differently.

Instead of remembering being over his mate, Jazz decided to remember being under him and looking up at the pleasure-flushed features as Prowl rode him. He felt every ripple and slick slide from memory and his spike _ached_ behind its lock. He loved the way Prowl's pleasure came across and a surge of joy that his mate could still find pleasure this way pushed across the bond. 

Prowl's joy at sharing pulsed back, and suddenly the sensation of fullness filled the bond with a wave of additional pleasure.

Jazz groaned as his processors turned fuzzy. ~What are you using?~

Instead of words Prowl passed an image of a one of their simple false spikes. ~Fingers aren't enough.~

Jazz vented hot air and relaxed into the lounge, trying to just enjoy the feeling with his mate without getting as worked up as his frame was trying to be. ~Feels good,~ he murmured. 

~Good,~ Prowl's joy flared brightly, overshadowing even the pleasure for a moment. Then the toy rubbed along a deep series of nodes and Prowl's awareness whited out for a brief moment. When he came back all he could do was focus on the building charge and driving it to the crescendo as quickly as possible.

Jazz hummed and dimmed his optics, imagining pushing up into Prowl and sending that across the bond. They _would_ recover from this. They'd been through so much, they just needed some time. They'd get there. Jazz pushed that certainty to Prowl and Prowl replied with the same. 

Pleasure built in Prowl's frame and he moaned, then keened as it tripped past safeties and overwhelmed Prowl's frame. Jazz shuddered with his mate, pressing down on his spike cover as he felt Prowl's overload. As it faded he relaxed back down, then smiled and looked over at Prowl.

He was slumped, a little, but facing Jazz with one hand between his legs, propped up on the other. Jazz smiled. ~You're so gorgeous.~

The thanks came through with emotion. ~So are you,~ Prowl murmured as the toy slipped out and was tossed into the 'clean ASAP' box without looking. ~Can you take a little more? My spark....~

~'Course,~ Jazz said, and his vents caught as his spark throbbed. He wasn't sure whether or not to watch, but he definitely wanted to feel that. He could feel that Prowl wanted him to watch, yet was refraining from suggesting it. He heard Prowl shifting about and almost instinctively knew that his mate was now kneeling to put on the best show of spark play if Jazz chose to look.

Jazz dimmed his visor and gave a slow x-vent to settle himself. His spark gave another hard throb for its other half. Jazz wasn't ready, but his spark _wanted._

~I don't have to, if you are at risk,~ Prowl offered as he stilled, his chest open.

~Not at risk,~ Jazz said. ~Not from just this. It's wanting to _be_ with you...~ His processors skipped a little, fuzzy with desire. ~I'm worried what would happen if I was with you. But I can control myself and stay here. No risk.~

~I look forward to when you can join me again,~ Prowl said warmly as the first touch to his chamber drew a low sound from them both. 

~I love you,~ Jazz said, as his fingers trailed up and down his own chest seam. He felt Prowl's encouragement to touch himself, to enjoy the moment fully while white fingers slid and caressed Prowl's chamber. It felt so impossibly good, the pleasure from the very source of their connection. Jazz imagined the pale, brilliant spark and his chest cracked. He was charged up from feeling Prowl work himself to overload already, knowing that his _spark_ was exposed... Jazz shuddered again. He couldn't resist looking and turned his helm. 

It was everything he knew it was when Prowl put himself on display. That wondrous ice blue spark shown brightly, causing shadows and ribbons of light to dance as knowing white fingers worked chamber and exposed spark. The gorgeous display of frame, thighs slick with lubricant, was barely noticed. The bliss-slackened face was not.

Jazz groaned as his fingers found his chamber and started to trace the crystal lattice. This bond had kept Prowl alive. This bond was theirs to celebrate. 

Nothing but joyful pleasure echoed from Prowl at those thoughts as he agreed with them. The bond shivered while Prowl's spark brightened to the point it looked white and excess energy surged into Jazz like the tide. Building slowly but inevitable. Only this tide was of warmth and pleasure and joy.

~I love you,~ Jazz said again, as his fingers pressed into his chamber. Energy swirled around and through them, pushing back and forth over the bond. It was hard to stay apart when they were this close, but staring at each other's blatantly exposed sparks was erotic enough to help them stay where they were. Jazz imagined the tendrils of Prowl's spark wrapping around his own and his frame seized up, catching him by surprise, as an overload slammed through him and he shouted. Prowl was barely a spark-pulse behind him and with the wash of intense mutual pleasure was intense relief.

Prowl _needed_ this in a way that he rarely did. His frame and spark finally sated and armor closed, he sank down onto the berth and allowed himself to drift for several enjoyable kliks. Jazz drifted with him, though he remained more aware and after a few kliks, pulled himself up for long enough to get over to the berth and collapse next to his mate.

"Love you," he mumbled as he curled up with Prowl. Prowl's reply came more from a sense of contentment and pleasure at being held as he snuggled closer, shifting his frame to accommodate his mate being there and the desire to touch.

* * *

Jazz didn't bother chiming before hacking the lock on Whiplash's private quarters. If the minibot had _really_ wanted to keep him out, it wouldn't have been hackable. Probably. He looked around and spotted Whiplash quickly, lying on his front and draped over Sucre's lap. Sucre was running his fingers along Whiplash's helm, petting slowly.

"What could you _possibly_ want?" Whiplash asked, turning his helm so he could see Jazz.

Jazz waved at Sucre, who smiled back with a brief nod, then focused on his commander. "I'm bored. Put me on duty."

"Have you fragged Prowl yet?" Whiplash turned his helm back and Sucre continued his petting.

"No, but--"

"Then no."

"C'mon, 'Lash, at least give me paperwork."

"I said no. I don't believe you're yourself and put back together again until you've fragged him through the berth _and_ done it willingly and with no trauma to either of you. At least eight times."

"Why eight?" Jazz asked with a frown.

"I like the number eight," Whiplash said with a shrug. "You two could knock that out in half an orn on a good day."

"But--"

"Jazz." Whiplash looked at him again. "Do you know how many joors I get to myself every vorn, roughly?"

Jazz thought it over for a few moments. "Three?"

Whiplash snorted, then sighed as Sucre's fingers trailed down his neck. "Not far off. So why do you think I would want to spend them arguing with you over something I have already made clear?"

"Your door _was_ hackable," Jazz pointed out.

"Not on purpose, I'll fix it," Whiplash said. "You're just annoyingly good. Now go away."

Jazz scowled, then huffed and left. ~When are you off duty?~ he asked his mate. 

~One point two joors,~ Prowl responded with a soothing brush along the bond. ~You may visit if you wish. I am not working on high security material.~

Jazz started to head that way. ~Whiplash won't put me back on duty,~ he complained. 

~Because you are not ready yet,~ Prowl said with gentle understanding and affection, along with the steel that warned he was going to back Jazz's commander.

Jazz huffed. ~Yeah, well.~

It didn't take long to get to Prowl's office and he slipped in with a smile for his mate. "Starting to miss you after a few joors." 

"I usually miss you as soon as I leave," Prowl admitted with a soft smiled and warm brush along the bond. "So, bored enough to do filing?"

"Yes," Jazz admitted as he flopped into the chair across from Prowl. He held out his hand. "Gimmie."

Half a dozen datapads were pushed to Jazz's side of the desk and Prowl went back to work. "Any plans for tonight?"

Jazz shook his helm as he started ordering the several dozen reports per datapad by date. "Beyond cuddling with you at some point, no."

"Perhaps a bit of polishing?" Prowl suggested with a hopeful look and flutter of his doorwings.

"I'd like polishing," Jazz said with a warm smile for his mate. Prowl smiled back and then they wordlessly settled into the work, Prowl filling out reports and Jazz filing and uploading them when he was done.

Exactly one and one half joors later, Prowl set down the last report and stood, stretching out his doorwings.

"All done?" Jazz asked. 

"For this orn," Prowl offered his hand to help Jazz up. "I'm looking forward to feeling your hands on me."

Jazz's field warmed. "So am I," he said, taking Prowl's hand and rising. He didn't let go as Prowl came around his desk or as they left his office. The walk to their quarters was a quiet, their tendency towards mild affection in the halls well known and earned little more than a glance. The anticipation building in Prowl for their plans growing as the door opened and they slipped into their quarters.

Jazz sent a teasing nudge over the bond. ~Anyone polished you since I left?~

~Bluestreak mostly. I do have to keep a suitable finish as a command officer,~ Prowl answered as he relaxed face down on their berth with his doorwings splayed and relaxed in offering.

Jazz went to collect the polishing tools and found everything exactly where they'd been the last time he'd gone for them, vorns ago. He smiled at the normalcy of it before going back to Prowl and climbing onto the bed. "I always did have a thing for doorwings," he said as he dabbed polish onto the cloth. 

"Indeed, even if you did insist on courting one of the least social Enforcers in the city," Prowl hummed in pleasure-happiness.

Jazz smiled and started to rub the polish in, settling into a straddle over Prowl's waist. "Definitely not why I picked you," he chuckled. 

"Mmm, and why did you pick me, if not for the challenge?" Prowl tried to sound teasing, but what came out was more of a moan.

"Your good looks," Jazz said with a grin. "You know that." 

"But of course," Prowl hummed. "Enforcers look so unique."

"I could always pick you out of a crowd," Jazz said, moving the cloth in broad strokes over Prowl's doorwings.

"I'm sure," Prowl purred at the attention and their normal banter. "Of course, you were ops even then."

"Mhmm." Jazz focused on a dull spot for a few moments. "Wasn't that, though. You always held yourself different in a crowd. You made mecha feel like it was safe to approach if they needed help. Always loved that about you."

There was a distinct flicker of grief in Prowl's field before it smoothed over. "Perhaps if we had a strong leader I still would."

Jazz paused, then sighed and leaned forward to kiss the back of Prowl's neck. "I know, Prowler," he murmured. "The ones that get to know you come around. Even Sunny and Sides--not that they'd never admit it--they feel safe to come to you with something important."

"How do you know that?" Prowl was genuinely curious and welcomed a shift of subject away from what he'd become to be the harsh one, the leader it was safe to hate, to protect the Prime.

"'Cause everyone likes me and I hear everything," Jazz hummed, then smiled at Prowl's soft laugh. He started to polish again, relieved that the mood was back where it was supposed to be. "Some just see the scary part and the 'mean' part and never get past it, but the smart ones see the _fair_ part. Even those pit-spawn twins know they deserve what you give 'em."

"I could never abandon that," Prowl sighed in pleasure that was as much emotional as physical. "Not without having my core coding corrupted. That can't happen with you near to keep me balanced."

"I know." Jazz's fingers briefly switched from the broad polishing strokes to light, delicate trailing entirely meant to make his mate shiver. He was rewarded with that shiver and a flare of remembered erotic pleasure that Jazz's touch could bring. Jazz cycled his vents, gazing down at Prowl's doorwings. "'M not gonna leave you again without a fight," he murmured.

"You didn't last time," Prowl pointed out in an effort to sooth. ~I agreed you were the only choice. The only one with any credible probability of coming back at all.~ 

"Mmh. Still." Jazz dabbed more polish onto the cloth. "You need someone here to polish you on a regular basis. 'S pretty important." 

"It is," Prowl willingly conceded with a low sound of platonic pleasure. "No one does it like you. So much time and care. Not a duty to you. Love that."

"Love you," Jazz said with a smile, and settled into a quiet, open bond while he worked his way over Prowl's doorwings. It was meditative in a way for them both. Jazz knew how to play those wings to pleasure, to anger and to relax. It was a lovely thing for him right now, to have that control over how Prowl reacted to his touch. There really weren't that many ways they touched that didn't create at least a tickle of a charge in them both.

With Prowl's doorwings gleaming, Jazz relaxed on top of him, not even thinking about it. It came naturally to them both after a polish. It was warm, comforting and continued that welcome contact.

~Recharge, love,~ Jazz murmured, feeling some hesitation in his mate at the idea and catching a hint of intent. ~Let everything come naturally. If you feel like recharging, recharge. We have time.~

~We do,~ Prowl agreed and allowed himself to shut down more fully. He still wasn't ready to recharge as deeply as he once had in Jazz's arms, but every night got a little deeper or a little longer. Even though he hadn't been through the deep cover issues that Jazz had, Jazz knew that his mate never recharged alone well and was still working through far, far too many vorns of not recharging fully.

With a soft sound Jazz relaxed, allowing himself to enjoy the teek of his mate under him and in recharge.


	6. Rewards of Effort

Jazz finished booting to the soft, soothing pleasure of his mate stroking along his frame while carefully avoiding all of his major erogenous zones. He hummed and smiled, stretching out and bringing his vision online. "Mornin', love," he said, and looped an arm around Prowl's neck.

"Morning, love," Prowl purred and wiggled until they could kiss. ~I'd like to see your pleasure to your own touch.~

Jazz pulled back from the kiss to look at his mate. "Yeah?"

Prowl nodded, keeping the bond carefully neutral.

Jazz thought about it for a few moments, then nodded. "Yeah okay," he said, then leaned in and pressed a grinning kiss to Prowl's mouth. "But not here."

"Anywhere you want," Prowl agreed without hesitation.

Jazz took Prowl's hand and guided them upright and off the berth, then led him out to the lounge. Less intimate, safe. ~'S okay?~

Prowl leaned in to kiss him softly. ~Yes.~

Jazz sank forward, deepening the kiss. ~What do you want to see?~ he murmured.

~Whatever you are willing to do to pleasure yourself,~ Prowl answered honestly.

Jazz curled one hand around Prowl's neck. The kiss remained unbroken, slow and easy. His other hand pushed down his frame and settled on his pelvis, tracing the spike cover. There was some hesitation in his field--this was what had hurt Prowl--but it was also what he felt drawn to when he thought of his mate right now.

~Yesss,~ Prowl's moan as Jazz's intent became clear was honest and pure desire. It took everything he had to keep his hands off his mate, but he managed it.

It sent a surge of arousal through Jazz and his sharp intake against Prowl's mouth was paired with his cover snapping back. Jazz shuddered and pressed his palm against the housing, then cycled his vents to slow and calm himself. He didn't want to rush.

Their helms rested together and Jazz caught Prowl's lip briefly in his denta before slipping back into the kiss. He lifted his hand a bit and patted his fingers over his housing. It felt so good to touch himself after abstaining for so long. He knew Prowl wouldn't have minded, but it just didn't seem right to indulge himself when he couldn't indulge his mate.

As the spiral cap of the housing opened, Prowl trembled more than Jazz did. The spike hadn't more than peaked out when Prowl lost his battle with self-control. His spike cover slid open and his hand went to the housing and the spike already poking out.

Jazz gave a harsh x-vent and his fingers tightened around Prowl's neck. He thumbed his tip, curling two fingers around the length that had already emerged. Wouldn't take long. He moaned against Prowl's mouth before their glossas slid together. This wasn't interfacing, but it was very close for them, and Jazz could easily feel that for Prowl it was just as good emotionally.

~Love your pleasure,~ Prowl panted as their glossae tangled and they stroked themselves in unintentional unison.

~Love yours,~ Jazz answered. The only sounds in the room were their ventilations and the slide of their palms against their spikes. Trembling, frames heating, panting into each other's mouths. Neither was pushing for overload, not wanting the perfect moment to end too soon.

Jazz shifted his hips forward. It brought his knuckles to brush against Prowl's. He felt Prowl's unvoiced plea, something he knew Prowl would never ask of him until after they had interfaced properly, yet couldn't keep the idea of from slipping across the bond when they touched.

Jazz shivered and their mouths stilled, parted slightly, brushing together. They held together, everything pausing for those few moments before Jazz lifted his hand off his spike. He reached forward, his fingers brushing Prowl's hand. The joy-arousal that surged through the bond was intoxicating, as was the touch of Prowl's fingers and then palm on his spike.

The first stroke Prowl gave him surged through Jazz's frame and awareness with far more than the simple charge a hand would cause. His vents stuttered and he brushed his fingers along Prowl's spike, then slid his fingers around it. Prowl shuddered under his touch and Jazz stroked up and down.

~Yes!~ Prowl's entire frame arched into the touch and the intense pleasure of his mate finally touching him as a lover. Only his advanced processors gave him the ability to continue to focus on stroking Jazz, the bond wide and thick with the emotional content of this simple touch.

"Nnh--" Jazz's vocalizer caught as they gave up trying to kiss and just let their helms and mouths press together. They rocked into each other's hands, losing control with every passing moment as the pleasure built and they both found that nothing bad came up. Soon Prowl's free hand was gripping Jazz's shoulder to help them both balance as the crackling charge became visible.

They gasped together as heat surged through their frames. Prowl squeezed and twisted his wrist and Jazz seized forward. "Oh _Primus--!_ " Molten pleasure rushed through him, mingled with the same molten surge in Prowl and they pumped transfluid onto each other. The splash of crackling heat only intensified the pleasure that blinded them both to everything but the bliss of their frames and the joy in their bond.

It lasted for almost a klik as they shuddered and gripped each other before they collapsed together, heat being flushed from their frames as they trembled together. Jazz's fingers relaxed and found Prowl's, linking them together. Their spikes rubbed against each other, sending small aftershocks through them.

~Thank you,~ Prowl whispered when the aftermath had cooled enough for coherency.

Jazz nuzzled against him. ~Thanks for suggesting it.~

~Do you think I could spike you, sometime soon?~ Prowl asked with hope and care.

~Yeah,~ Jazz said with a smile, cupping Prowl's face in his hand and pressing a kiss. ~I'd like that.~

* * *

Prowl relaxed in the Prime's quarters after shift, enjoying a rare cube of mild high grade and the company of one of the few mecha he trusted enough to let his guard down around.

The Prime's pleased hum rumbled over him as the large mech settled himself onto his preferred lounge. "You teek much more content than last time," Optimus said. "Things are going well with Jazz?"

"Better, yes," Prowl accepted the inquiry into his personal life. "We both have a ways to go, but it's improving. Jazz is finally in a place where we can pleasure each other and it went well."

Optimus slid his mask back to take a sip of high grade, revealing a warm smile. He left the mask retracted. "That's wonderful. I can't imagine how hard it would be to still feel so distant from him, even after his return."

Prowl nodded, his emotions closer to the surface here than most times. "I miss his spark the most. The pleasure's nice, but it's been so long. I understand how the twins get better now, even if the bonds are not the same."

"Theirs is different, yes, but the depth is similar," Optimus hummed. "The longer you and Jazz are bonded, the closer your bond will be to a twin bond. Connecting with each other is important. Do you know why he is so hesitant?"

"Bits and pieces," Prowl's sigh hid none of his disgruntlement, or his acceptance of it. "He has to be ready to forgive himself for what happened when I was captured. He knows I hold him to no ill will. Knew it long before I told him that or that I was as recovered as I could be without a lover. He needs to forgive himself before he can face my forgiveness at that level. Even saying it it doesn't make sense to me. I just know it's true."

"It can be difficult to forgive one's self, and even harder to accept the forgiveness of your loved ones," Optimus hummed, then shook his head with a rueful smile. "I'm sorry, you know that. Ratchet is always telling me to stop being such a font of wisdom all the time. I can't seem to turn it off."

"Sometimes it is good to hear it again," Prowl smiled fondly for his leader. "I am still learning that _knowing_ does not always mean _understanding_ , much to my frustration. Still, we are making progress. It has to be enough."

"Have you talked to him about this?" Optimus asked. "How badly you need him to further your own recovery?"

"Such as we can," Prowl attempted to explain only to realize that wasn't what Optimus was speaking about. A deep sigh escaped him. "He knows what I need. I can't hide that well from him." He stilled and tried to figure out the words he needed. "It's not in me to rush his recovery to speed my own. I am functional. He is not yet."

"Your needs are important, too," Optimus said gently. "Is there any way to work together?"

"Not that I know of," Prowl admitted quietly, everything in him screaming to deny such a statement, that it was deactivation and worse to admit _not knowing_. "I've been told in no uncertain terms not to rush this." It was deflection, even as it was true.

"All right," Optimus said. "But promise me you will let him know if your need becomes too great. What you've been told or not, we need you at your peak."

"I know," Prowl deflated a bit. "I haven't been there in entirely too long. Yet if we try too much before he is ready, it could set everything back vorns."

Optimus nodded in understanding. "Let me know if I can help in any way. I don't want to pressure or rush, but I know you can see how we are losing ground. Just be honest with yourself, and me, is all I ask."

"I will. The tac-net allows little else," Prowl murmured. "Even when I override it, it is obvious I am doing so to everyone."

"Thank you," Optimus said.

* * *

As soon as Prowl got back after a long orn, he was greeted by purring engines. "Well hey there, doorwings," Jazz welcomed him with a flashing grin. Prowl's arousal instantly perked him up. He'd been too well trained by too many vorns not to respond to his mate flirting with anything other than desire.

"Hello yourself," Prowl purred in reply and stepped forward to close the distance between them. Everything about going slow and careful fled his processors at the playful sensuality he had long ago learned nothing bad could come of.

"You got an engine to back those things up, or are they just for show?" Jazz asked, sauntering forward.

"I have the engine," Prowl nearly growled and his powerful pursuit engine did. "And the endurance," he actually grabbed his mate when Jazz came close and claimed a heated kiss, his glossa against Jazz's lip plates and fire in his field.

"Mmm, that so?" Jazz grinned. "Had some good engines in my time, think yours can stack up?" His arm slid around Prowl's waist.

"I caught you, didn't I?" Prowl grinned as his hands explored his bonded's back and sides, careful to avoid the interface panels without greater clarity on what was desired. "You're going nowhere but under me."

"That a promise?" Jazz asked, shimmying his hips against Prowl's.

~Serious?~ Prowl had to break from the game just a bit. He wasn't as confident as he had once been as to where the boundaries were from joor to joor anymore.

~Yeah, love,~ Jazz said. ~Told you you could spike me.~

"That's a promise," Prowl growled and pushed his mate to his knees, then over to all fours. "You are _mine_ ," he rumbled, rubbing his panel against Jazz's with a promise of pleasure.

" _Ha--_ " Jazz gasped, his panel heating immediately. "Like a mecha who takes charge."

"I know," Prowl rumbled lustfully as he pressed against Jazz's back and shamelessly ground their panels together while he pulsed his field deep into his lover's frame.

Jazz braced himself and pushed back. He groaned as his valve cover slid open. Not too intimate, an easy way to connect again. He pushed over his gratitude and felt it returned along with the desire Prowl did honestly feel for his mate.

Both their focuses turned to the physical as Prowl's spike slid along slick platelets, teasing for several strokes before the tip nudged against Jazz's entrance, and then inside. Jazz's hands curled into fists and he stilled for a moment, then released a slow x-vent. "Call that an engine?" he purred.

"I call it warming up," Prowl nipped at back plating and pressed all the way in, slowly, in full control of himself and the frame under him. "I caught you. You are _mine_ tonight. However I want you."

"Nnh. Sounds fair." Jazz's valve clenched around his mate and moaned as Prowl began to thrust, deep and strong. "Feels good, do whatever you want."

"I will," Prowl promised with another powerful thrust.

Jazz went to his elbows with a gasp, hips pushing up. " _Oh_ frag me," he groaned. His valve was throbbing around the hard length. ~Primus I've missed this.~

~So have I,~ Prowl's physical lust was nothing compared to the emotional high this was generating. "Going to drive you into the ground," he promised as his hands gripped Jazz's hips to pull him into each thrust, controlling both their movements almost completely.

"Do it, yes, yes, drive me!" The endless stream of encouragement from Jazz came with each push from Prowl, his spark pulsing in time with the rhythm of their frames. "Frag me, yes, please, _please_ \--" Jazz's valve clenched, then spasmed in overload as Prowl's spike hit the back, buried inside him. "Nnh, oh-- _frag--!_ "

Jazz's overload crackled into Prowl's spike and frame and was more than enough to push him into a blinded, roaring white-out of pure bliss.

Jazz shook under his mate, then sagged, and gave a low moan while Prowl gave a few more lazy thrusts. His mate's transfluid coated his valve, warm, familiar, _so_ good. "Love you," he purred.

"Love you," Prowl replied honestly as he leaned forward to nuzzle his mate. "Still mine for the night?"

"Still yours," Jazz sighed, stretching forward. "Yours to do whatever you want with." Their berth was in his mind, something that flickered over the bond.

It was a thought, a half-desire that Prowl embraced happily as he pulled them both to their pedes. "Berth, on your front."

"Hmm, more?" Jazz purred as he crawled onto the berth and settled on his elbows and knees, aft pushed up into the air and valve exposed.

"Oh yes, much more," Prowl purred deeply as the bond hinted that he had definite plans now. Gentle white hands guided Jazz to lay fully down on his front, then a knee nudged his legs a bit further apart. Straddling one of Jazz's spread legs, Prowl leaned forward to gently kiss Jazz's neck and pushed the tender pleasure he desired more than driving, searing lust.

"Mm." Jazz sighed and shivered. Prowl kissed along a cable and Jazz slowly relaxed, pulling his leg up higher. With the success of the playful, "casual" interfacing, intimacy felt easier to approach. Jazz settled his helm on his arms and dimmed his visor. Prowl's weight settled a little more over him, making him sigh again.

Prowl purred and continued to kiss his way down Jazz's back slowly. His lubricant-soaked spiked sliding a glistening, tingling trail along Jazz's inner thigh. Jazz's valve twinged, feeling suddenly empty. He shivered under Prowl's light touch, the bond open and warm. "Yours," he murmured, smiling.

"As I am yours," Prowl purred was he continued to kiss and stroke Jazz's frame even as he answered the need to fill that empty valve. Gentle, slow and with the tender contentment of a long time lover, Prowl slid inside and mostly held still while he indulged his every desire to touch and stroke.

"Gonna undo me, lover," Jazz breathed. "Mm." He pushed back against Prowl's hilted spike, familiar and missed so badly. " _Ah._ " Holding there, joined, his frame responding to each of his lover's gentle touches. There was a giddy thrill in his spark that they could do this again, a bright note in the deep love.

"Good," Prowl whispered as he gave Jazz a little more motion with his hips. "I want to do just that."

Jazz's valve squeezed and his hips lifted. He reached back to touch his mate, just to have another connection point, fingers brushing Prowl's armor where he could reach. He felt it all welcomed, felt the joy in Prowl that this could happen as Prowl pressed into the touch without shame.

"Love you, Jazz," Prowl whispered as his fingers continued to stroke and caress.

"Love you," Jazz murmured. His visor was flickering, his vents catching with each forward shift as Prowl filled him. Every movement was careful and entirely focused on _touching_ each other, being joined together. More than once, Prowl stopped while he was fully inside and held there between his mate's legs, every part of them that they could manage touching the other.

It was bliss of a kind that transcended the physical pleasure. Their sparks pulsed in time, full of pleasure that was far less sensual than it was about joining. Very much like a good spark merge when they were in a tender mood. The bond was as wide open as it could be, the pair as connected as many were in a deep pleasure merge yet their armor was fully in place.

"Feels so good," Prowl moaned as he thrust just a bit more, the desires of his frame beginning to catch up to him.

Jazz nodded with a hum. He was so slick there was barely any effort needed for Prowl to move inside him. Charge was building in the lubricant, building between their frames. Jazz's free hand tightened on the padding. His vents were trembling with the rest of him. Still Prowl managed not to do more than the slow, gentle slides that build the charge between them in nearly unnoticeable increments. 

It wasn't long before Prowl moaned against Jazz's neck. His field spoke of a mech very close to having his will to move slowly broken and yet Prowl still managed it. The pleasure of the slow build was as frustrating as it was intense. At this speed their actual charge build to greater levels before cresting as it had time to partially dissipate into their frames after each thrust and withdraw.

Being filled with so much charge and being so intimately connected for so long was an intense high. Their x-vents crackled, breathless moans filled with static that had nowhere to go, every wire and plate filled to near maximum.

The tip-over began slowly, shudders that rippled through them, building with each moment.

"Nnh." Jazz's frame began to shake. " _Oh--_ "

"Yesss!" Prowl's trembling hiss of almost painful release as the charge began to be dumped into Jazz's frame via transfluid and contact was only cycled back to him from the valve and frame he was pressed against. He gave up all pretense of control and welcomed the overload that surged back and forth between them for what seemed like joors until it had finally lost enough charge that they slumped down, shivering and twitching and utterly unwilling to move.

"Primus I love you," Jazz sighed after a few kliks.

"More than anyone," Prowl whispered, his vocalizer still crackling softly as the charge dissipated more slowly from his frame.

"Don't pull out," Jazz murmured as he settled down into the padding. "Wanna boot up with you inside me."

A flush of warmth passed through them from Prowl as he welcomed the request and began to shut down still laying on top of his mate and buried deep inside him. Jazz smiled and snuggled down into the padding, _peace_ settling into their sparks.

* * *

"So, you want me back, couldn't take it," Jazz said with a grin as he sauntered into Whiplash's office after the summons. "'S alright, I get it, everyone wants me."

"I want you to finish fragging Prowl into a berth, and have him return it," Whiplash snorted. "At least tell me you've made _some_ progress."

"Who says I haven't?" Jazz challenged, only to have his boss laugh.

"The fact that you didn't bound in here demanding work and showing off the fact that you did," Whiplash smirked.

Jazz stuck out his glossa at his boss. "Well, we _have_ made progress," he said. "We've interfaced, with Prowl spiking me. No problems. Masturbated together, masturbated each other. So yeah, progress."

Whiplash's smile was genuine with his relief and pleasure at the news. "How did it go?"

"Good," Jazz said, as his smile softened as he thought about it. "Bond totally open. Feeling like I love him more than ever, like that's even possible."

"That's very good. How did he handle it all?" Whiplash focused on the other half, now content that his agent was making actual progress.

"Prowl was fine," Jazz said. "Eager. He's ready for more, I'm the one keeping the slow pace."

Whiplash nodded. "Then you are both doing well. Have you discussed or tried to merge yet?"

Jazz shook his helm, frowning. "Overloaded our sparks together, but on opposite sides of the room."

Whiplash hummed. "How do you feel about merging?"

"Mm." Jazz held his hand out, tilting it back and forth. "Like I'm just going to make him relive everything if I can't keep myself from thinking about it."

"That is a risk," Whiplash acknowledged. "It is also possible that he has recovered enough that he can smooth the worst of your pain from it. He has spent a lot of time in recovery from it. He's remarkably stable and you know his will and love for you."

Jazz stuck his glossa out again. "Stop making me try to confront my intimacy issues."

"Until you face and conquer them, I can't let you out on a mission again," Whiplash shrugged. "I have something of a vested interest in your getting over this."

"So what I'm hearing is that I get to be on vacation as long as I want," Jazz said with a grin.

"I suppose, though I seem to recall you have _issues_ with being out of a job almost as severe as your better half," Whiplash teased.

Jazz chuckled. "And you know I'll find something to entertain myself with."

"Of course you will. Even after I put you under a medical lockdown, which can be extended to your mate," Whiplash replied reasonably.

"You always knew how to ruin a good mood," Jazz said with an optic roll. "Point taken."

"It is part of my job description," Whiplash chuckled. "Get going and manage a few overloads."

* * *

Prowl came back to his quarters with the feeling of a warm, open bond. He felt his mate at his side as soon as he walked through the door, field brushing against his. "Hey love," Jazz murmured, slipping his hand into Prowl's. He leaned into the contact and turned his helm for a kiss.

"Mmm, plans for the evening," Prowl responded by keeping his voice low as well.

Jazz nodded and shifted so he could bring his hands up to cup Prowl's face as the kiss deepened. He took a step forward and Prowl took one back, his doorwings coming up against the door as Jazz pinned him there as they kissed.

After a few kliks, Jazz slipped one of his legs between Prowl's and pressed up between his thighs when he felt them part without resistance and with a flare of desire. One of his hands dropped lower, fingertips finding Prowl's valve cover and tapping a light pattern against the top. "'S okay?" Jazz whispered, turning his helm to kiss Prowl's jaw while it snapped open with a low, wanting moan.

"Yes, please. Want you so badly," Prowl rubbed his hands along Jazz's back and tipped his helm back to offer his throat cabling.

Jazz cycled shuddering vents and hoped he was ready for this. His mouth found the offered cabling, couldn't believe Prowl still trusted him this much in some moments-- But when his fingers slipped through lubricant and his fingertips pressed inside his mate, everything inside his helm went dazzlingly, brilliantly, wonderfully fuzzy. He wanted this, wanted his mate, to feel that incredible pleasure that only Prowl could create in him. 

A deep moan shuddered up from Prowl as Jazz pushed his fingers further in. He rocked his wrist, loving the way Prowl's valve tightened around him.

"C'mere," Jazz murmured, and stepped back, drawing his hand away, drawing Prowl with him. Prowl's low whine at the loss was quieted with a kiss as Jazz carefully walked them to their berth. With gentle pressure Prowl sat, then lay down and spread his legs with his knees up.

~Want you,~ Prowl extended his arms to his love.

~Love you,~ Jazz answered as he climbed over him, pressing his mouth back to Prowl's neck and teasing the cables with his glossa. His fingers found the slickness again and his spike started to extend. He wanted to be _buried_ in it, and feel Prowl's ecstasy shuddering around him. Every roll of Prowl's hips, every moan and cycle of calipers around his fingers made him burn a little hotter until he couldn't stand it.

~Love you, want you, please,~ Prowl pleaded as he sought pleasure where he had been hurt.

Jazz moaned and rocked his hips, spike brushing Prowl's plating. ~Love you so much,~ he said, and his spark felt like it would burst with the intensity of the feeling behind the words and how strongly it was returned.

He pulled his fingers out, feeling them coated, and shifted his hips back, and pushed into his love. Prowl moaned deeply under him, shivering with pleasure as he rolled his hips up to greet Jazz's.

Jazz held still once he was all the way in, looking down at Prowl's blissful expression. After a moment moved his weight a little, rolling into Prowl. The valve squeezing around him made his vision fritz a little. He tried not to think about the last time he'd been inside his mate. Nothing was the same, he insisted to himself. Not Prowl's expression, not the state of the bond, not who was in charge of his own frame.

~Love,~ Prowl pleaded for movement.

"Yeah," Jazz breathed, and put his weight on his elbows, starting to rock. Prowl moaned more deeply, squeezing and flexing his valve to increase the stimulation for them both as he drew Jazz down for a heated, indulgent kiss that caused both their charges to spike. They held close together, Jazz's knees pushing Prowl's legs apart, mouths never leaving each other. As slow as they both tried to move, the joy of being together was nearly too much on its own. It took barely kliks before Jazz groaned, the rhythm of his thrusts breaking up.

Prowl gave a shuddering moan of pure bliss, only to have his optics white out with a rage-filled roar and claws lashed out at Jazz's throat. The bond was instantly confused and frightened, unclouded by the processor loop and aware enough of actions it couldn't stop.

Jazz struck back immediately, battle protocols flaring him and forcing him to defend himself. He couldn't stop the claws to his neck in time and lines were cut, but he was able to grab the hand as it pulled back, snapping the wrist. The other hand came for him with a vicious snarl and Jazz struck up with his knee, cracking a hip joint. A roar of pain and there was enough time for Jazz to regain enough control over himself to call for an Ops medic before slamming his helm into Prowl's, immediately knocking them both offline.

* * *

Jazz muted a groan on reflex as he booted up. His throat cabling itched, a sure sign of repairs, and he waited impatiently for his memory core to boot enough to access the latest memories. Heat flashed through his systems. The feel of Prowl around him and under him, the blissful expression and swell in the bond, then _pain_.

"So that didn't go well, did it," he said, before his visor had even powered up.

"Clearly not," Ratchet's dry displeasure came back. "Remember what happened?"

"Not really," Jazz grumbled. Something had taken over, protocol probably. "Being with Prowl, felt fine..." He shook his helm. "I remember thinking it would be a good idea to get us both offline."

"Because option one is to deactivate your attacker, you wanted option two," Mindguard, the SpecOps psych-medic spoke up. "You came up clean, so I know whatever happened didn't start with you. None of us believe you'd glitch in a way that would cause that damage on him, or that he'd try to deactivate you if he was himself."

"Frag," Jazz whispered. He sat up, pressing his palms over his visor. The Ops medbay had been sectioned off and Prowl wasn't within sight. The bond was still and quiet. "Where is he?"

Optimus motioned towards one wall, drawing Jazz's awareness to just how many were standing there. Whiplash hadn't spoken yet, but he would, eventually.

"He's repaired and in stasis," Ratchet answered the unasked question gruffly. "No permanent damage."

"And no memory files of that last moment either, though in my opinion, he glitched before you went on protocols," Mindguard added.

"How bad was he hurt?" Jazz asked, feeling sick.

"Broken wrist, I expect as a response to him trying to tear your throat out, a broken right hip, likely because you kneed it, and the same helm denting you had from when you knocked both of you out," Ratchet grunted.

"Guess it coulda been worse," Jazz said, frowning, mostly to himself.

"Yes, you could have deactivated," Ratchet scowled at him. "Which would have taken Prowl too, one way or another."

"Yet it did not happen and you are both repaired now," Optimus insisted gently. "There is the opportunity to heal what caused this. Your bond is a strong one. Do not give up on it."

"Frag," Jazz said again, and shot an almost nervous look at Whiplash, not liking the complete silence, before looking at Ratchet. "Can I see him?"

Mindguard nodded. "For a moment, to convince yourself we're telling the truth. Then back on the berth until Ratchet throws you out."

Jazz nodded and hopped off of the berth and headed around the partition. He couldn't stop the relieved smile to see Prowl on the berth on the other side, peaceful in recharge. The repairs were obvious, but minor, compared to what they could have been.

Prowl must have been afraid of him.

"No," Mindguard's statement caused him to almost tear his gaze from his mate. "You know full well memory overlay glitches aren't about fear or anything else in the moment they happen."

"Doesn't mean he didn't _feel_ afraid in that moment," Jazz murmured. His spark ached, longed to be with its mate, to feel everything that he was and be there for him.

Ratchet gave a huffing sigh at something Optimus whispered.

"Go ahead. As long as his vitals are stable you can snuggle for a few kliks until I'm ready to boot him up."

Jazz nodded gratefully and went to Prowl, climbing onto the berth and wrapping his arms around him. He curled around his mate, x-venting as their helms came together. "I'm so sorry, love," he whispered. Prowl couldn't hear him, and everyone else could, but he didn't really care. The strength of his bonded's spark against him, the warmth and welcome he felt through it when their fields touched, was a balm he wasn't sure he deserved on any level but couldn't do anything but soak it in.

He had no sense of how long he was allowed to remain there, but it wasn't long enough. Still, he reluctantly scooted off the berth when Ratchet shooed him from the room. He paused once to look over his shoulder, watching Ratchet plug in, then felt a hand on his wrist. He looked down to see Whiplash, who squeezed lightly without looking at him, then gestured with his helm. "Go on."

Jazz hesitated, then sighed and went back into his own room.

When the door closed everyone inside settled in to watch Prowl's much, much longer boot cycle, though as it dragged on and Ratchet remained calm, they felt better. By the time Prowl's optics onlined everyone was relieved that his processors were intact.

"Which one of us glitched?" Prowl asked calmly.

"We think it was you," Optimus said gently.

"What do you remember?" Mindguard asked.

"Jazz and I were interfacing, his spike in my valve. It felt very good. The rhythm shifted and the file corrupted," Prowl reported what he could.

"What position were you in?" Whiplash asked.

Prowl's field flushed slightly and his doorwings gave a quiver of discomfort even as he answered. "I was on my back, legs spread and he was on top of me. Yes, the position Flint raped me in."

Whiplash shook his helm and didn't say anything.

"How are you feeling?" Optimus asked.

"Still slightly disoriented, though that is a normal result of off-lining abruptly regardless of the cause," Prowl answered. "Where is Jazz?"

"Elsewhere, repaired, safe," Whiplash said. "Whose decision was it to be in that position?"

Prowl took a moment to review the memory, his systems heating quickly despite his best efforts. "Mine. I wanted it, wanted him, badly."

"Fine," Whiplash said.

"There is no permanent damage from the moment of flashback," Mindguard said. "I've tried to reinforce some of the markers that will indicate the memories as just that: memories. It doesn't mean that the right circumstances won't bring it back; it's a highly emotional and vivid set."

"Yes, everything about my capture was highly distressing for both of us. We will work through other positions for him to spike me before we try that one again," Prowl sighed. "When may I see him?"

Whiplash opened his mouth, but a low rumble from the Prime's engine made him pause, then huff. "He's in the next room, you can see him now."

Ratchet nodded his agreement. "You're fine. His damage to you was mostly in the joints; you'll be sore but nothing more than that."

Prowl was on his pedes before Ratchet had even finished. "I will be careful of both. What damage did I do?"

"Tore his throat cabling out," Ratchet answered, accepting the faint flinch and dropped doorwings as a good sign. "And he had the same helm damage as you, he knocked you pretty good with his head to get you both out. He's up and walking already."

"Thank you," Prowl told him and went for the door. Jazz was waiting on the other side, shifting side to side and looking anxious. The instant the door was out of the way he lunged for his mate and grabbed him in a crushing hug that was quickly returned by a shaking Prowl.

~I'm so sorry,~ Prowl couldn't make his vocalizer work. ~I never believed I would snap like that.~

~No, no, shh,~ Jazz said. ~I shouldn't have let us get like that. I should've known better. I _do_ know better. I'm okay, you're okay, you didn't do anything wrong.~

~I know better as well,~ Prowl murmured as he began to calm and nuzzled Jazz. ~I just wanted you so much I wasn't thinking. Still want you.~

~Wanna ride me?~ Jazz asked, and hummed as his lips pressed against Prowl's helm.

Prowl turned into the kiss and deepened it quickly as he shivered with a molten rush of heat and desire. ~Yes. Very much.~

~Good, c'mon,~ Jazz said. ~Before 'Lash catches on and lectures me.~

~Or Ratchet stops us,~ Prowl agreed and moved to pull Jazz along, out of the SpecOps medbay and towards their quarters.

Jazz snuck a look over his shoulder and saw that none of the mecha in the room were fooled. Optimus looked pleased, Ratchet looked exasperated, Whiplash's expression was about as unreadable as always. ~Yeah, Ratchet's the one to worry about,~ he agreed, as they linked hands and tried not to run to their quarters.

Once through the door Jazz let his delighted grin cross his face and he grabbed Prowl in a spinning hug. " _So_ glad you're okay," he said, engines purring.

"It is very mutual," Prowl purred into another kiss and drew Jazz towards the berth. ~Let's get you on your back before I lose focus again.~

Jazz nipped at Prowl's lip. "Wanna dirty ride, huh?" He laughed when Prowl's engines revved and his mate pushed him back onto the berth. "You wet for me, lover?"

"Dripping," Prowl's valve cover snapped open as he climbed over Jazz's legs to kiss his spike cover. "Open for me. I want you so bad."

"Yeah you do," Jazz said with a smirk, letting his cover snap back. The housing spiraled open immediately and the next sound that escaped him was a deep moan when Prowl's glossa swirled around the tip peaking out.

~Want to taste you, feel you,~ Prowl whispered between them, the glyphs dripping with heated lust.

Jazz hummed deeply, hand coming to rest on Prowl's helm. "You look good with your mouth on my spike, you know?"

Prowl hummed in reply. ~I do. I look even better with it in me, my wings spread as I ride you and tease myself.~

~Ooh, yes you do,~ Jazz said, and encouraged Prowl to move his helm a little as his spike extended. ~Is that what I get to see next?~

~As soon as you're hard and locked,~ Prowl purred, stroking Jazz's leg seams.

~Think I'll take my time locking up, then,~ Jazz said, running his thumb over Prowl's chevron. ~Like this view right now.~

~Good,~ Prowl's engine rumbled deeply and he focused on teasing with his lip plates, glossa and intake more than on getting Jazz ready as quickly as possible. Yes, his valve ached to be filled, his repairs itched and he knew Jazz's did too, but it felt too good to have this intimacy back.

Jazz hummed and relaxed, a smile on his face. ~Good, so lovely,~ he purred. Despite the confidence his spark was fluttering a little, but he could smell Prowl's arousal, and Prowl's mouth on his spike was nearly enough to undo him. He kept purring teasing encouragement until he didn't think he'd last another klik under his mate's talented lips. His legs spread open a little and his spike clicked into full, locked extension. He could feel Prowl's mixture of disappointment at the fun of oral ending and elation that he'd soon be filled as the Praxian lifted his helm and scooted forward to claim a kiss that began surprisingly gentle and chaste to avoid distracting from the surge of sensation that was Jazz pressing into Prowl's frame as Prowl sank down.

Jazz hummed into the kiss and one hand wrapped around Prowl's neck, pulling him in. His other hand settled on Prowl's waist. ~Lemme help with that ache,~ Jazz purred as he rolled his hips.

~Yessss,~ Prowl's moan was as emotional as it was physical as he pressed his glossa into Jazz's mouth, exploring and inviting all at once. The stretch and sensation of being filled, the intense pleasure of having Jazz this way, was still something he feared they had lost. He willingly gave most control to his mate, yet unlike most times he retained enough to ensure that when Jazz's overload was close Jazz wasn't the one in control of the movement.

" _Mm._ " Jazz knew he would overload first; he was too worked up from Prowl's mouth. He focused on the kiss, stilling his frame. ~That's it, love, that's it,~ he encouraged, hands gripping Prowl's armor. ~Just a little--~ A sharp whine escaped him and everything whited out as the overload overtook him. It was fast, almost felt out of nowhere, and made him seize up under his mate.

Prowl moaned at the rush of fluid into him, the crackle of the charge surging into primed sensors. He broke the kiss when Jazz was oblivious and arched up to ride his mate, drawing the pleasure out and bring Jazz down slowly to online his optics to Prowl's spread doorwings and white hands stroking up and down his black and white abdominal plating.

~Mmm.~ Jazz looked adoringly up at him. A flicker over the bond to make sure Prowl was okay, but mostly Jazz was just enthralled by the view. His mate wasn't one that would make an exhibit of himself readily, so unlike Jazz. The treat was a very real one despite their privacy and it was molten to watch Prowl touch himself, enticing his own frame as he lifted up and sank down around Jazz's spike, squeezing and rippling around the sensitive shaft as he move.

~So gorgeous,~ Jazz praised, trying to let Prowl feel how nothing else existed in the world for him right now. Prowl's pleasure was his only focus. He felt Prowl's pleasure increase at that, the joy Prowl felt that Jazz loved him, wanted him, and enjoyed his pleasure.

~For you,~ Prowl moaned as he moved, every stroke building his charge until he trembled under Jazz's hands.

~Mhmm.~ Jazz rubbed Prowl's sides. ~Work yourself for me, wanna see you overload, love.~

Prowl moaned at the instruction, trembling as much as the implication as the desire behind them and the charge washing through his frame. He did his best to draw it out, to give a good show and draw his mate near the edge again.

~You look good on my spike,~ Jazz said while their charge surged and ebbed, each cycle ending just a bit higher than the last. ~But I bet you already know that. Doin' beautifully, love, lemme see how much you love this.~

~Like doing this for you,~ Prowl shivered and moaned in bliss. ~Know you like watching me.~

~Love you,~ Jazz told his mate, and fought the urge to roll his hips up into Prowl's frame. He settled for teasing his fingers along the junction of leg and frame, encouraging his lover to keep moving. ~Gonna make me spill again if you keep doin' that. Want it to be when you're in bliss.~

Prowl nodded a bit jerkily and shifted his posture so each time Jazz's spike filled him it rubbed him in the best way possible to build his charge. It wasn't long before he was gasping with every motion, his fingers flexing randomly as fine motor controls were triggered by the charge.

~Good,~ Jazz purred, though it was a struggle to keep his voice steady. ~So hot.~ His grip on Prowl tightened. He was determined to hold out until Prowl overloaded. ~Let's see how much you like riding me.~

~A lot,~ Prowl managed before the white-hot surge of his overload blanked everything for him with a high keen.

" _Primus_ \--" Jazz gasped, and he couldn't keep his frame from arching up as Prowl's valve clenched around him. He could feel the shudders through the lining and he bit his lip. Prowl bucked and everything Jazz had been holding back rushed forward, flooding through his frame as he overloaded into his mate. Though neither were really aware of it, that surge pushed Prowl's flagging peak upwards again and held him there until all the strength fled his frame and he dropped forward to sprawl across his mate.

Jazz immediately wrapped his arms around him, pressing his face to Prowl's neck as the last the shudders coursed through his frame. He twitched a little, hips moving as little as he was able. "I love you so much," he whispered.

Prowl mumbled, still dazed, but the bond sang with his adoration of Jazz and relief-pride in their overload like this.

Jazz's relief was already strong, his relief just intense, creating trembles in his spark. He'd been so worried of ending up in the medbay again with one or both of them hurt worse than before, with even more reason to avoid being together.

~Never.~ Prowl responded as firmly as he had to anything. ~Never give up on you.~

Jazz nodded. His grip on Prowl tightened, fingers almost painful on Prowl's armor. "How can you forgive me?" he whispered. "What I--how could you _possibly_ ... I don't understand."

Prowl sighed softly and nuzzled him. "How could I not forgive you for saving my life, my sanity and far too many secrets? If you hadn't been the one to hurt me, someone that was actually trying to break me would have."

"I know," Jazz sighed. "I know all that. It's--when I--I didn't need to do that. I couldn't face it, I was just a coward, gave you over to him."

A flash of confusion crossed the bond and Prowl's field. "Which I agreed to."

Jazz shook his helm. "You weren't in the condition to agree to anything."

"I agreed before anything began that we'd do what needed to be done to get me out. I still agree with that," Prowl glossed over the part where he was too far gone to agree for a specific event. "If you'd cracked before I was rescued we would have both been in the DDC."

Jazz was still for a few moments, then huffed a humorless laugh. "Stop making it sound so logical."

"What else would I make it sound like?" Prowl raised his helm and arched an optic ridge at him.

Jazz looked up at him. "I can't think of a single thing," he said, then lifted his helm and licked Prowl's nose, playfully, before leaning back with a small smile and was chased down for a kiss that was slow and sweet.

"Good," Prowl purred and relaxed to rest his helm on Jazz's shoulder. "You shouldn't be able to."

Jazz nuzzled him and rested his hand on Prowl's helm. "Love you," he murmured, and it echoed through his spark.

"With all my spark," Prowl murmured in honest reply.

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom: Transformers G1 AU  
> Author: gatekat, vaevade on LJ  
> Pairings: Jazz/Prowl  
> Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Optimus Prime  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Codes: Sticky, Spark, Spark Bond, Partner Torture  
> Summary: Not long after they risk bonding Prowl has to send Jazz deep undercover for a long mission. Of the many things they expected might happen during the mission, Jazz being ordered to interrogate Prowl was not on the list.
> 
> Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page <http://www.gatekat-fics.livejournal.com/290.html>. We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read. 
> 
> From: <http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/13205.html?thread=15390613#t15390613>
> 
> Prowl and Jazz are recently bonded (lead up to this appreciated but not necessary) when Prowl is forced to send Jazz on a long term undercover infiltration assignment with the Cons. Even Prowl is not aware of the identity Jazz is using for cover and their bond is completely muted while Jazz is gone.
> 
> About half-way through Jazz's mission, Prowl is captured and taken to a Decepticon base for interrogation not knowing that Jazz is currently stationed there. Jazz is ordered to go down and interrogate a prisoner, but is unaware that Prowl has even been captured much less is that prisoner.
> 
> When Jazz enters the interrogation cell, he instantly recognizes his mate (who does not recognize Jazz) but is unable to do anything because he is under observation. He opens the bond to Prowl in a full out panic hoping that Prowl can find an alternative with his battle computer. Not finding an alternate plan Jazz is forced to torture Prowl and one of them (author's discrediting) begs for the bond to remain open. Jazz and Prowl comfort each other though the bond while outwardly they are every inch the interrogator and his prisoner.
> 
> After the session a distressed Jazz closes the bond and tries to plan a way to get his mate out without losing his cover (since his mission is incredibly vital). When he cannot and fearing another session, he reopens the bond to ask for Prowls assistance. (The number of session is up to author discretion.)
> 
> Eventually the autobots stage a rescue and Jazz with Prowl's help is able to subtly assist them. Prowl is rescued and Jazz resumes his mission.
> 
> Bonus points for a scene where an angsty Jazz returns from his finally completed mission.
> 
> nanoklik = 1/8 second;   
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;   
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;   
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;   
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;   
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;   
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;   
> metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;   
> vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;   
> ::text:: comm chatter  
> ~text~ hardline/bond chatter


End file.
